Phantom of the High School
by fufulupin
Summary: AU, sticking the PotO cast in a modern day high school. I'll be leaning toward the EC pairing, because I'm a sucker for doomed romances. Sorry Raoul-fans. -grins- Rating is subject to variation.
1. Dreaming Beginnings

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

_In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came…_

The dying lyrics of a haunting melody danced through Christine's brain like the last embers of a campfire. The song had consumed her sleep night after night for several weeks, controlling her previously-uneventful dreams with a passionate aggression.

The seventeen year old orphan, living under the care of one Mrs. Giry, rolled against the wall, stretching long legs and yawning. She could still hear the song, its words echoing off of her sleepy mind's walls.

"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came," she murmured, opening rich chocolate eyes and gazing at the clock beside her bed.

_The voice that calls to me and speaks my name_, her mind responded, unbidden. Christine shook her head and got up, tousling her long dark hair absently. Across the bedroom, Meg Giry gave an irritated moan when Christine threw a pillow at her.

"It can't be time _already_," the girl whined, pulling the covers up over her head as Christine switched on the light.

"Oh, but it is." Christine womped her roommate over the head with the pillow again. "Get up, Meg, or I'll flip your mattress."

"You wouldn't," the muffled voice grumbled, but Meg's untidy blond head popped up from under the blankets all the same. Christine grinned rather evilly.

"Ah, so you've finally learned. It's only taken you an entire summer…"

"Sure, mock me now," Meg sniffed. "See if I help you today in the Cell."

Christine's heart thudded uncomfortably against her ribs as she pulled a blouse and pair of jeans from her dresser. "Why do you call it that? It's just a school."

"It's a nightmare," Meg told her flatly, dragging herself into the room's adjoining bathroom. "I call shower first," she added unnecessarily, closing the door.

Christine sighed and sat on her bed. The Girys, old friends though they were, were not family. Nice, yes, but sometimes a girl needed more than nice. Sometimes, a girl needed flesh and blood relations.

Christine was not lucky enough to have kin. Her mother had died when she was very young and now her father was gone as well, the victim of cancer. The grandmother whom Christine had stayed with for six months had passed at the opening of summer, leaving the lonely teenager to move to a completely different city. And that had been fine, at first; by keeping busy, she'd been able to avoid thinking about the loss of her beloved father and grandmother. She'd allowed herself to be swept away into a land of beach visits and parties and though all had not been right with the world, it had at least been better.

Now, however, with the prospect of classes and students and homework, stress was thrown into the mix. Cleaning and contending with Meg's sometimes-wild friends, Christine knew she could handle. Hundreds of new people rushing at her all at once was a completely different matter.

"Done!" Meg trilled as she emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her head turban-style. "Your turn, Chrissy!"

Christine smiled weakly and headed into the bathroom. Somehow, she couldn't imagine that a shower and breakfast would ease her mind, but for now it was all she had.

A/N: Ah, ok, first chapter. This is a bit shorter than most of the chaps should be, but I actually want to have a chapter story so this is what you get. I hope it isn't too horrid. Most of the characters should be appearing and it will be (obviously) an AU, Movieverse as the book leaves me with a completely different picture of the characters. So…enjoy and I'm going to go type up the next chapter now. See ya! –waves and fades into the shadows with a keyboard-


	2. Math Class and Freaks

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"Ah, the bus," Meg drawled, hefting her backpack. Christine nervously bobbed on the balls of her feet.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"Put it this way: if you can survive the bus ride, you can survive the Cell." Meg flashed a quick grin as the large vehicle arrived, peeling yellow paint and all. Christine gulped.

The doors swung open with what Christine thought was a totally unnecessary shriek. A frail, tired-looking old man sat at the wheel; he looked over his glasses at them and mad a brisk motion with one hand. The girls climbed aboard, Meg looking completely at ease, Christine shivering in apprehension. The latter looked back one last time at precious sunlight, wishing that she didn't have to leave it, and then—

A ball of paper bounced off of her forehead. She blinked.

"What?"

Meg grabbed her sleeve and pulled her bodily into a seat. "Don't acknowledge them," she instructed calmly. "If you ignore them, they'll—"  
"Stop?" Christine finished hopefully. Meg snorted.

"Are you kidding? They won't focus as much on you alone and you should thank your lucky stars for that." At her friend's uneasy expression, she added, "Don't worry. I'll walk you through the day. It's easy once you get the daily pattern."

"And how long does that usually take?"

Meg shrugged. "Meh. A week to a semester, depending."

"On what?"

Eyeing her beadily, Meg smirked. "On you, my dear. But like I said, I'll walk you through it. No major bodily harm shall come to you. Not today, at least."

Trying to ignore the tangle of nerves that was her stomach, Christine looked out the window. The landscape, though mildly familiar by now, seemed wrong to her. Dreamlike, almost.

_In sleep he sang to me…_

She shook her head, willing the words away. The last thing she needed to do was focus on that stupid dream.

"Welcome," Meg was saying, "to Hell in a high school."

"Can you say 'paradox'?" Christine quipped thoughtlessly. Her friend giggled.

"Sarcasm, very good. You'll fit right in."

Barely dodging a flying stuffed penguin, Christine gave another weak smile. "Joy," was all she could manage as Meg once again grasped her arm and hauled her off the bus and into the building.

The halls were more than crowded; the best word Christine could think of was "crush". The crush of bodies seemed to lunge at her, all grinning faces and mindless chatter. Twice, Christine nearly dropped her backpack as shoulders slammed unflinchingly into her own.

"Do you want to go to your locker?" Meg yelled over the din. Resisting the urge to clamp her hands over her ears, Christine shook her head.

"Where's my first class?" she shouted back.

Consulting a sheet of paper, Meg smiled. "Lucky you."

"What?"

"Geometry first hour. I hope you brought your thinking cap." Meg snickered. Christine felt her stomach plummet.

"I don't suppose you have that class too?"

"No, I've got History. But you should be okay." Meg winked. "Who knows? Maybe you'll get to sit next to a hot guy."

At that moment, Christine couldn't have cared less about the male species. None of the faces she had seen had been appealing; all of them were either smoking or leering. Still, she tried to smile at her friend.

"Here we are," Meg told her, pointing to a dark little room at the rear of the corridor. "Mr. Hall. He's okay, but he likes to keep the lights off and the PowerPoints on, so I wish you luck in staying awake."

Christine swallowed. "When will I see you next?" she asked, feeling very much like a child on her first day of kindergarten. She wished blindly that her father had never died, that she'd never had to move here.

Meg shrugged, peering more closely at her. "Probably at lunch. Three hours or so from now. Do you think you'll be able to manage without seeing this beautiful face until then?"

Christine tried once again to smile even as Meg bid her a quick goodbye. As she watched her only friend dive back into the mass of people, she muttered, "What happened to walking me through the day?"

"Talking to yourself?" a kind voice asked from inside the darkened room. Curious, she poked her head through the doorway.

"You can come in, you know," the voice said cheerfully. "In fact, I'd prefer it. It's difficult to broaden the minds that remain in the hallway."

Obediently, she stepped into the room and found herself face to face with a tall thirty-ish man—Mr. Hall, she presumed. He offered her a ten-pound book and a swift grin. "Welcome. Take a seat, Miss…?"  
"Christine Daae," she answered, dutifully choosing a desk at about the midpoint of the room.

His eyes widened ever so slightly. "French?"

"Very." Her lips quirked upwards. "I'm dismal at the language though. Can't speak it with the proper accent to save my life."

He chuckled even as he turned his attention to the small mob that entered, leaving Christine once again to her nervous thoughts. Math, although not her strongest subject, wasn't a complete nightmare. She usually did pretty well, assuming she paid a decent amount of attention to the lectures.

"Good morning," Hall said, taking a stand at the podium that had been set at the head of the class. Christine jumped, realizing that the room had been filled before her very eyes.

"Good morning?" Hall tried again when all he received was an incoherent murmur in reply. One eyebrow lifted and he shook his head. "Wow, I got a happy little group this year, didn't I?"

Another dull murmur. Christine fastened her gaze to the desk before her, tracing one finger absently along the scratch marks adorning the tabletop. _Vandalism…it can be so amusing…_

Suddenly, she stopped and lifted her head.

A boy, probably seventeen or eighteen, had appeared in the doorway. Tall and exceptionally thin (perhaps unhealthily so), he was hunched over and dressed in several layers of baggy clothing, which made him look less elegant than he truly was. A sweatshirt concealed his face with it's hood's shadow and a coat was over that, adding to the strange picture.

Mr. Hall looked up as well. "Ah, Erik, good. I was afraid you'd be late. Take a seat, sir; I'll be with you in a moment."

The boy—Erik—nodded and chose a spot in the very back of the class. Christine watched him out of the corner of her eye even as Hall said cheerfully, "Class, this is Erik, my T.A. If you ever need assistance and I'm not available, feel free to speak with him."

"Yeah, right," a boy snorted from the front row, which Christine found horribly rude. The rest of her classmates, however, seemed to share the boy's feelings on the subject. Some of them smirked, other jeered. Erik made no indication whatsoever that he'd heard them, not even when a girl hissed, "Freak…" loudly enough for the entire room to hear.

Christine frowned, waiting for the teacher to comment on the abhorrent behavior. All he said, however, was, "All right, calm down. Now, who wants to read the syllabus aloud?"

A/N: Okay, this is going slowly, I know. Bear with me, I'm still fleshing out the plot in a notebook. Won't be paying much attention to History tomorrow, I can tell you that much. Review replies! Or rather, reply, as I have only one review at the present time:

Doomed Delight: Thank you for reviewing! It's been so long, I almost forgot what those look like. –grins- I'd also like to thank you for giving my humble little fic a chance. I don't think it's going to turn into one of those crazy past-life senarios, but you never know. I'm making no promises as of yet.


	3. Enter Choir

Disclaimer: Me? Own this awesomeness? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"This school is terrible," Christine hissed at lunch. Meg shrugged indifferently.

"I told you, didn't I?"

"Yes, but…" She paused to take a violent bite of her sandwich, then continued furiously. "But the kids here are…are…"

"Evil?" Meg supplied. "Again, I believe I informed you. You'll get used to it, Chrissy, don't worry."

"Terrific," Christine muttered sarcastically, wanting nothing to do with the kids and their malicious insanity. Throughout the remainder of the Geometry class period, they had continued to mock the silent T.A., despite the fact that he'd done nothing to provoke them. One kid, on his way back from the pencil sharpener, stabbed the poor boy in the shoulder; when Erik blanched slightly, he made an innocent face and continued on his way. The boy hadn't said a word, had barely lifted his covered-head, but Christine's heart went immediately and inexplicably out to him.

The next hour hadn't been much better. English class and although Erik wasn't there, her thoughts lingered on him, helped along by the constant chatter of her classmates.

"He was in my first hour," one girl had cried as if in horror. "He sat in the back with that stupid hood on and I could _feel _his eyes on me. It was disgusting."

"Sounds like hell," a boy had replied feelingly, rubbing the girl's arms from behind. "I wish I was in that class; I'd beat the crap out of him for you."

Christine's blood had risen in anger. She'd gripped her notebook tightly enough to mark up her palm with spiral-shaped scratches and glared at the duo who was insulting the so-far-as-she-could-see innocent boy. They, of course, took no notice of her, which only infuriated her more.

No one talked about Erik during Chemistry, and for this Christine was thankful. She wasn't sure why he remained at the front of her mind, but she was certain that she would have snapped if she'd had to hear one more horrid thing about him from her new school-mates.

"I knew you'd be pleased," Meg said calmly. Christine jumped, having forgotten that they'd been conversing in the first place. "Do you have homework yet?" the other girl continued and Christine twitched slightly.

"A little," she answered darkly. "But Meg, you should've heard these kids—"

"Christine, I've heard them, all right?" Meg sighed. "You can complain all you like, but there is nowhere else to go. I suggest you do as I did and accept this is your reality. Do you think you can do that?"

If this had come from anyone else in the world, Christine might've been angry or at the very least hurt by the comment. However, as she and Meg were close as sisters, the words did nothing to faze her. All she did in response was to lean back against the plastic seat and pout.

"Hey, cheer up." Meg poked her with a too-ripe banana. "Choir next hour, remember? It's the one class that I've ever really enjoyed here. Well…with the exception of elementary school gym. But everyone loved that class."

Christine shrugged, trying to keep from dwelling on the old memories her friend was dragging to mind.

"Terrific," she repeated. She enjoyed singing as well—probably more than Meg could ever know—but the concept of breaking into song in front of so many of these terrible people made her feel like vomiting up the sandwich she'd so viciously consumed.

Her late father's voice echoed in her mind, humming more than speaking. _Little Lottie, _it murmured, _don't let them frighten you from something you love._

A bell squawked and Christine jumped, torn from the vision of her father's gentle face. Faint violin music danced through her mind, then faded like wisps of smoke. Meg's hand closed over her arm.

"C'mon," she commanded, hauling Christine out of her seat. "Madame will be cranky if we're late."

"Madame?" Christine repeated, frowning. "Is it choir class or French?"

"You'll see." Meg was smiling rather mysteriously, which only caused Christine's frown to deepen. When her friend became cryptic, life got difficult, she'd learned. She much preferred the "out with it!" attitude that Meg Giry usually conveyed.

As the petite blond half-dragged her down to the secluded choir room, Christine forced her mind to release the mystery that was "Madame" and tried instead to focus on singing. She hadn't done so in front of a crowd for a very long time—over eight months, at least—and the idea wasn't a pleasant one. The vomity sensation returned. What if they laughed at her? She could end up like this Erik person, alienated and ridiculed.

_I wonder why they pick on him…_

"_This_ is the choir room?" she said aloud. Meg grinned.

"Fabulous, isn't it . It's so out of the way that half the assholes don't even know it's here. Only the best survive in this class."

"Oh." Christine's heart sank lower; if she had to guess it's location, she would say that it was resting somewhere around her ankles. "What if…what if I'm not good enough?"

"Something tells me you will be," Meg answered, eyes still glinting happily. "Come on, let's find seats!"

Christine allowed herself to be pulled to a spot in the front row. This room was enormous, like a small gymnasium. There were two rows of desks set along one wall, a piano against another, and a set of bleachers where, Christine assumed, the class would line up day after day to sing. She shivered, excited in spite of her mounting anxiety. The acoustics in here had to be wonderful! And, just at the back of the room, was a door marked STAGE. Would they be performing? She thrilled at the idea; even if it was for those awful people, the chance to be on stage, making music…

_My, aren't we contradictory today?_ her mind chuckled. _First the terror, now the excitement. What's next; are you going to get up and do a little jig on your desk?_

Meg was smirking, the concealer of a private joke. Christine frowned yet again.

"Are you just going to leave me hanging forever or what?" she demanded.

"Shh," was all her friend would say. Christine gritted her teeth in annoyance.

"You're so—"

"Attention!" a woman's voice rang out from the head of the room. Christine's head snapped up quickly enough to give her whiplash.

Mrs. Giry stood before them, looking more severe than Christine had ever seen her.

"_Her_?" she whispered, shocked. Meg's grin widened further.

"Didn't I tell you my mother's a teacher?" she asked innocently.

"Class, I am Madame Giry," the woman whom Christine had thought she knew announced. "Some of you," –her eyes lingered on Meg and Christine—"may know me as something other than the name I've just provided you with. I ask you to refer to me during this class as Madame at all times, simply to promote a sense of equality. In this particular class, you see, there is only equality. No one is smarter than the others as is so frequent in other courses; if you aren't good enough to be here, you will cease to attend class. Everyone is equally beautiful here; at the same time, you are all open to criticism. _My_ critical ways will soften for no one. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, Madame," the class chorused. Christine wriggled a bit in her seat, eager to begin.

Noticing, Madame Giry smiled. "Miss Daae, since you are so obviously full of energy, would you kindly go collect our accompanist?"

"Sure," Christine answered. "…Where is she?"

"_He_," Madame corrected her smoothly, "is probably downstairs. Go out that door, down the stairs, and into the little room you'll find there. Tell him that we're nearly ready."

Christine nodded and got up. Meg kicked her ankle lightly, still beaming; she smiled back, feeling truly happy for the first time in hours.

A/N: Ookay, another short chapter. I think these will get longer, but you never know. Umm…yes, the Madame Giry thing is kind of odd, but she was the only teacher for this class. Seriously. And it works…just strangely. –smiles-

Review replies:

Angel-of-Music1331- Yes, Raoul will appear. I'm pretty sure of how, I'm just not sure when…soon, I believe.

Phantom of the Past- Cool name! As for how I'm going to pull it off…wait and see!


	4. The Room

Disclaimer: Me? Own this ...joy (-is running out of adjectives-)? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

_This school has a basement?_ Christine thought, slightly surprised. When Madame Giry had told her to go down the stairs, she had really meant it; there had to be fifty steps here. It was the craziest staircase Christine had ever seen in a public building.

"Hello?" she called softly, opening the door at the foot of the staircase tentatively. "I'm looking for…woah."

Piano music hit her so suddenly that she couldn't help but think that the door had been soundproofed. How else could she have missed this angelic melody? It was the most wonderful thing she'd ever heard; the notes seemed to wrap around her body, warming her like a comfortable blanket. Her eyes slipped shut and she swayed unconsciously, humming quietly along for a glorious couple of minutes…

Then, painfully abrupt, the music halted. A guarded voice asked, "Can I help you?"

Her eyes flew open; every nerve screamed in protest, desiring more of that gorgeous melody.

"I—hey, it's you!"

The statement, though childish and stupid-sounding, was very true: though his back was to her, she could tell that the amazing pianist was Erik, the mysterious T.A. from Geometry. He was still dressed as he had been that morning, hood thrown up over the upper portion of his face, overcoat making him appear bulkier than he actually was.

"Can I help you?" he repeated warily, his fingers absently tapping out a gentle tune on the piano's keys.

Christine felt herself enter the tiny room, although it seemed as if her legs were moving of their own free will. This space was interesting; it had a few simple posters tacked to the walls and a cluttered desk. Other than that and the large, black instrument, it was nearly empty.

"Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but I've got a piece to work on," he said softly, snapping her out of her dazed thoughts. "If you're looking for someone specific, you're probably in the wrong place."

"I'm looking for an accompanist for Madame Giry's choir class," she heard herself say. It was the oddest sensation, almost as if her soul had been detached from her body by the magical music, and she wasn't sure she disliked it.

The young man turned sharply and she saw his mouth tighten under the shadow of his hood. "She sent a girl?" he muttered, so quietly that Christine almost didn't hear.

"Yes, she sent a girl," she replied, puzzled. "I'm—"  
"I know who you are," he interrupted. At her startled expression, he added, "I heard Mr. Hall say your name this morning. Daae, right?"

"Right. Um…oh. Right." Why was she getting so flustered? This was supposed to be such an easy task: find the pianist, bring him back. Why was she tripping so badly over her words?

"Is she ready?" he asked briskly, standing up from the piano bench. She looked up at him, somewhat surprised by his imposing presence. _Imposing? This guy? What is wrong with me?_

"Y-yes."

He nodded and brushed past her without another word. Her head spun.

_In sleep he sang to me…_

"Stop that!" she mumbled to herself. Thinking about cryptic dreams would do her no good. Hadn't she already decided that?

He glanced back. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, of course." She forced her limbs into motions, though her legs weren't keen on the idea of taking those horrible stairs again. _Focus, Christine, you'll get up there and then you'll be able to think clearly again. It's got to be this basement, it's making you a little bit loopy—oof!_

Erik had stopped, just at the door, and she crashed into him. He turned and, although she couldn't see his eyes past the thick shadow, she got the distinct impression that he was staring at her. Uncomfortable, she rocked backwards.

"You won't go spreading this around, will you?"

"What?" she asked, feeling more confused than ever. His mouth tightened further.

"You're new to that class, so you probably don't know already. I like to be left alone. If people knew about this room…well, let's just say that it's an unspoken rule of thumb with Madame Giry's class that you do not talk about this place. It is for me and me alone. Are we in agreement?"

Surprised, she nodded. "Sure."

"You're making a promise," he pressed. "A promise that you can't go back on. You have to understand that."

_What is the big deal about this room?_ "Yes, I understand. I promise, I won't tell a soul."

He stared at her for another long, heated moment. Then, seemingly satisfied with her response, he started up the stairs.

Christine exhaled. This boy was such a strange one. What kind of person, after all, kept a hood up all day, hiding everything but the lower portion of a nose and below? And what kind of school allowed it without question?

A/N: Gah, they just keep getting shorter! Lol, the next one should be longer. We hope.


	5. The Song

Disclaimer: Me? Own this magificent...thing? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"It took you long enough," Meg whispered when Christine dropped down beside her.

"Sorry," Christine whispered back.

"Mom—sorry, _Madame_—has been going over that damn syllabus for over twenty minutes. Twenty minutes! Christine, twenty minutes is a very long time when one is being lectured and that woman hasn't changed the syllabus in a least four years!" She closed her eyes, gathered herself, then quoted: "In my class, you will not curse or taunt any other student. I will have no 'prima donnas'. Our accompanist is off-limits when it comes to insults, just like any student. You will sing when I tell you and stop when I tell you. No one—" She paused. "Can I stop now? Do you have the full picture?"

Christine laughed. "I'm glad I missed that."

Her friend looked pained. "Chrissy, it isn't even _coherent_! I really should talk to her about stringing it together more smoothly…"

Madame Giry clapped her hands together. "Class, line up on the benches. No particular order today, we'll work that out later. For now, just set yourselves up and be quiet while I get Erik settled with the music."

The class complied efficiently. Christine saw one girl shove past a trio of timid-looking boys; she lifted an eyebrow.

"Who is that?"

Meg glanced up and scowled. "Ug. That's Carlotta. Be sure to bow when she passes."

"Why?"

"Because she's Carlotta. She's the bitchiest girl you'll ever meet. Do yourself a favor and don't get on her bad side, all right? Even I can't save you from her."

"If she's so bad, why doesn't your moth—Madame do something about her?"

"Because she's Carlotta," Meg repeated. "And because her father is Madame's boss. He's the principal here."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Let me guess: she's Daddy's little princess?"

"In a nutshell," Meg confirmed. "Just do as she asks, get out of her way, et cetera. Don't piss her off and you'll be fine."

"Sounds great. What you're telling me is….to survive in this school, I have to fade into the shadows," Christine reiterated miserably. Meg shrugged.

"Discreetly, yes. Don't give me that look," she added when Christine's face fell. "It isn't my choice, you know. This is where Mom works, so this is where I'll remain. You too, unless you can come up with a better option."

Christine said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on the hunched form of Erik, bent over the piano. She imagined that he was biting his lip in concentration as he set his hands against the smooth porcelain keys. What color were his eyes? Something piercing, she was certain, blue or green. Or perhaps a stormy gray. Yes, that was probably it; something fiery and mysterious, like Erik himself.

_What are you doing?_ her rational side demanded. _Thinking of his eyes! You shouldn't be watching this boy, you should be watching Madame!_

"Christine, are you all right?" Meg questioned. "You look like you're asleep or something."

"Fine," she replied instantly. "Sorry, what are we doing?"

"Nothing yet. Mom's looking over her music, trying to find the perfect thing to torture our vocal cords with."

"About that," Christine said, narrowing her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me your mother's a teacher here?"

"I figured you could use a nice little surprise." Meg smiled. "You know, something to brighten an otherwise-agonizing day?"

"All right!" Madame Giry exclaimed. "We will be doing this piece today…wait, I'll pass them out…there. All right, the male and female parts are highlighted accordingly. Begin when I say."

Christine frowned down at the lyric sheet in her hand. Something about these words…

"Begin!" Madame Giry cried over the music that had begun to pour from the piano.

"_In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came_," the girls sang tentatively. "_That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name_."

Christine's heart pounded. That song! What was the likelihood of this?

"_And do I dream again, for now I find…the Phantom of the Opera is there. Inside my mind_."

The boys started up. "_Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me to glance behind…the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind…_"

"_Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear—"_

"_It's me they hear…_"

Here the two genders nodded together. Christine closed her eyes to better lose herself in the haunting lyrics.

"_My/Your spirit and your/my voice in one combined…the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your/my mind…_"

"Stop there," Madame Giry instructed. Erik's fingers ceased to dance along the keys and the spell over what seemed to be the entire class shattered. Christine drew in a shaky breath.

"Wow," she murmured. Beside her, Meg swayed slightly.

"That was a good one," she agreed. "I've never heard that song before…Mom must've just dug it out."

"I have sung better," Carlotta scoffed from her front-and-center position. "That was a horribly tune…"

The strongest desire to go down to the other girl and deck her smacked Christine like a bag of textbooks. She started forward; Meg grasped the back of her shirt.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Christine—"

"I'm going to give her what she deserves," Christine growled. "How dare she insult such a gorgeous piece, I swear—"

"Christine!" Staring, Meg gave a sharp tug on her friend's collar. "Stop that!"

"Why?"

"Do you _want_ to be expelled?"

Grimacing and rubbing her throat where the shirt had strangled her, Christine sighted. "Sorry. I'm not…I do that sometimes. With music. I just get so swept away…like when my father was alive…"

Though her expression was sympathetic, Meg's voice was firm. "Control yourself. I can't be holding you back every time Carlotta makes a comment. That would be a full-time job and I have something of a life."

"That wasn't bad," Madame Giry was saying. "We'll continue to work on that piece tomorrow and see where it goes. Now, however, I believe we are almost—"

The bell rang, right on cue. Christine felt a wave of crushing depression wash over her as she watched the class file out. Madame Giry smiled at several students, then leaned over some paperwork. Erik, apparently oblivious to the way her eyes lingered on him, simply left, hands jammed into his coat pockets.

"You still have one class left," Meg reminded her. Christine looked up to realize that her friend was already halfway to the door and hurried to catch up as Meg continued, "Come on, we're together for last hour too. French."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Why would I joke?" Meg blinked. "Christine, didn't you even look at your schedule?"

The girl shook her head desolately. Meg smirked.

"Your grandmother was practically _from_ France, dear. I think you'll be fine. Come on, you know the language already, don't you?"

"Yeah, _know_. Not _speak_." Christine protested. Her friend only chuckled, taking her arm and leading her out of the choir room—out of sanctuary and back into Hell.

A/N: This is, what, the third chapter today? –faint smile- Don't expect this many updates this frequently; I just happen to have no life today. Or any day, for that matter, but we can pretend otherwise. Oh, and the lyrics are kind of strangely-incorporated, sorry. It was the only format I could work with.

Review replies:

EmailyGirl- Glad you're amused by the T.A. thing. It does paint a rather interesting picture, doesn't it?

Maeve Of the Nile- Tanky! –grins-


	6. Torment in Geometry

Disclaimer: Me? Own this spiffiness? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"Awake again, I see," Mr. Hall commented the next day. "I'm so glad to see it."

Christine glanced up with a tiny smile. He wasn't a bad guy, for a teacher. He had something of a sense of humor, a rarity in math instructors. And he wasn't as incoherent as she had initially feared. In fact, the only fault she'd found in him thus far was the way he seemed not to notice the sheer rudeness of his class.

They were at it again, and once again Christine was forcing herself to stay silent, even though heart and soul shrieked to defend the shadow at the rear of the room.

"Doesn't he ever speak?" the rude boy from the previous day said loudly.

"I think he's a mime!" a girl giggled. Beside her, a blond laughed as well.

"No, mimes move. He's a statue!"

"A stupid, ugly statue!" someone echoed.

Christine saw Erik's shoulders stiffen slightly at this last comment; he seemed to curl into himself slightly, bringing his face within an inch of the paper he was perusing. She couldn't stop herself from whipping around and glaring furiously at this last cruel person.

"Relax, folks," Hall said placidly, leaning all of his weight on his podium languidly. "Open up your books. Remember what we were going over yesterday? Distance formula…"

"D equals the square root of x2 minus x1 squared plus y2 minus y1 squared," the class chanted tonelessly. Christine thought she saw Erik smirk.

"Good," Mr. Hall told them. "Do problems twelve through forty. I'm here if you have any questions and so is Erik."

Looking back, Christine would realize that this exact moment was what finalized the class' horrible plan. And she would wonder why she hadn't noticed those evil little smiles her peers were shooting at once another. Was she truly that clueless?

It started with a girl asking Hall a complex question. Then another. And another. She couldn't possibly be that dense, Christine thought; if she were, her brain would surely have fallen out by now. Something was up, something that required a distraction.

"Hey, T.A.!" a boy called. "I need help!"

"Ask Mr. Hall," Erik murmured without looking up.

"He's busy," the boy snapped. "Come on, T.A., I don't want homework."

Erik made a little noise of irritation, but he got up and came over to the other boy. "What?"

"It's this one—wait, never mind, I get it now." The boy grinned. "Sorry."

Erik shrugged and sat back down.

"Hey, uh, T.A.?" a girl asked immediately. "Come help me, will you?"

Christine saw his shoulders slump, uttering a brief sigh. Then he got up a second time.

"Which one?"

"This—oh, never mind," the girl told him, making a show of exasperation. "We don't have to do this one."

Clearly irked, he went back again to his seat. Again, a kid called for assistance and again Erik got up, only to be sent back. After the fifth time, his agitation had mounted to the point where his steps grew thick and heavy and his breath became uneven. By the seventh time, he had stopped getting up altogether. This didn't deter the kids, however; they took to tossing balls of paper and pens at him.

Finally, Christine could watch the horrible display no longer. Leaping up, she cried, "Stop it! Stop it now! Leave him alone!"

"Miss Daae!" Mr. Hall exclaimed, finally looking up. "Please, sit down"

Grinding her teeth together, Christine obeyed. The teacher turned his attention to his troubled-looking T.A. Erik's lips were set in an impossibly-thin line and his hands were trembling ever so slightly; Christine's heart ached.

"Erik, what is the problem?" Mr. Hall demanded coldly. The young man pursed his lips, then shook his head.

"Nothing, sir."

"Good, glad to hear it." Hall turned back to the decoy, conveniently missing the way his entire class (minus Christine and Erik) seemed to rear up as one horrible entity and sighed, "_Freak_…" in Erik's direction. Christine dug her pencil more deeply into her notebook.

A/N: Ok, another shorty for you guys. I promise, they will get better (I'm not too thrilled with the way this one turned out, even after the tweakings I gave it during the transfer from notebook to computer). At this point, however, I'd like to comment on two things. One is Carlotta's accent—for this story, it does not necessarily exist. I know this is irritating, but for it to be here, she would have to be a transfer student of some kind and she just...isn't. I'm very sorry if this irks people.

The second thing I'd like to address is the line in chapter 5, the one that goes, "That was a horribly tune…" It was supposed to be "a horribly average tune…", but my brain shut off midway through typing, I guess. It probably didn't annoy you guys too much, but it was bothering me and I'm too lazy to go back and edit it. –apologetic expression-

Review Replies:

I-LUV-ILC- Glad you're enjoying it. I'll try to keep up the steady updates.

Phantom of the Past-blushes- Well, I don't know about me "ruling", but I thank you for your fantastic enthusiasm.

Pirate Perian- lol, a janitor. That would be such an interesting fic…

StephW- Tanky. –grins-

Chibi Hime- lol, aren't cliffhangers the best?

Fox Xanatos- Merci.

Maeve Of the Nile- Always happy to amuse.

I love you guys! I'm actually getting reviews for once, it makes me so happy! –beams- Ok, now I'm going to go pray that I didn't just jinx myself…


	7. The Football God

Disclaimer: Me? Own this swell piece of joy? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"It was _horrible_," Christine moaned against the top of her lunch table. Meg looked up, rolling her eyes.

"Are we going to do this every day?"

"Most likely," Christine muttered. "You don't understand, though, they were _throwing_ things at him."

Meg's eyes rolled again. "Christine, allow me to be the first to tell you that you have the most unnatural fixation on this boy's misery. If you pile that one top of your own pain for too long, your heart's just going to implode."

"What a lovely image for when I'm eating," the dark-haired girl replied, regarding her sandwich with distaste.

"Oh, _wow_," Meg breathed, obviously ignoring her. "Look who just strutted in."

"Who?" Christine craned her neck to see around the throngs of people. "Erik?"

"No, not Erik! Raoul." Meg's eyes were glazed over. "The hottest boy to ever walk these halls…"

Christine snorted. "Please, he can't be _that_—oh."

The sea of people had finally parted and she could see that Raoul _was_ an extremely attractive young man. He had light brown hair, big dark eyes, and boyish smile—and a letterman jacket, she noticed.

"Football player?"

"Football _god_," Meg amended. "And class president. That boy has scholarships lined up as far as the eye can see."

"I suppose you're going to tell me that he also works with little cancer patients and that he's seconds away from finding a cure for AIDs." Christine chuckled. Then she out-and-out laughed at Meg's scandalized expression. "Wow, lighten up. You're drooling."

"Don't you think he's amazing?" Meg asked uncertainly.

Christine shrugged. "He's a cute guy with the weirdest name I've ever heard. That's all I can say about him for now."

Meg continued to gape at her. "You…are the strangest creature…ever."

"No, I'm not judgmental." Christine shrugged. "I'll tell you what I think if I ever—ow!"

She had stood up to throw out her lunch remains and slammed into a wall. No, not a wall…a person. A guy. A Raoul.

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed. "Are you—"

"I'm fine." She lifted her eyebrows. "And you?"

A relieved smile crossed his face. "Perfect, thanks. I'm Raoul."

"So I've heard. I'm Christine."

She started to turn back to her table. He grabbed her shoulder.

"What are you _doing_?" she demanded. He peered more closely at her.

"You look…familiar. Have we met?"

_How would I know?_ "Maybe. I don't…I don't know." She frowned. "Could you please let go of me?"

Looking extremely sheepish, the "football god" released his grip on her. Shaking her head, Christine sat back down. Raoul looked curiously at her for a moment more, then went on his way.

Meg elbowed her hard enough to leave a bruise. Christine yelped.

"That hurt!"

"Good," Meg told her hotly. "I can't believe you!"

"Can't believe what? What did I do?"

"_What did you do!_ Christine, you as good as insulted Raoul!"

"Oh, who _cares_?" Christine shot back huffily, growing quickly impatient with this boy's obvious hero status.

But it seemed that she was the only one with such an attitude. Through the remainder of lunch, she kept catching people gawking at her and someone shouldered her more viciously than was normal as she and Meg fought their way down to the choir hall.

"What is their problem?" she demanded, chagrined by her peers' odd behavior.

Meg only shook her head. "You, my dear, made a grave mistake on the social scale. People are going to think you're a leper or something."

"All because I shrugged off the resident pretty-boy?" Christine demanded, frustrated. "He's just a guy!"

"He's _the_ guy," Meg corrected her as they went in. "You blew off _the_ guy, Christine."

"Yeah, well—"

"Ladies, would you kindly stop chattering?" Madame Giry asked, glaring at them. "You are thirty seconds late and we do not need to hear about your drama as well."

Christine jumped, thrown off-balance by the reprimand. Meg simply shot her mother a dirty look.

"Sorry, _Madame_."

Madame Giry closed her eyes briefly. "Meg, I don't have the patience necessary for this today. Check your teen angst at the door and come in, both of you. Christine, would you mind collecting Erik again?"

Christine's heart jerked happily. She nodded and went to the door leading to the hellishly-long staircase, trying not to seem too eager. Once the entryway had shut behind her, however, she flew down the flight of steps as quickly as she dared.

Once again, she found Erik at his piano, swaying to the music he was producing. She slipped in, bringing the door shut, and stood behind him, not wishing to interrupt.

"Is she ready?"

"Yes." Christine stepped back as he got up, giving him room to move.

He hesitated. "Listen….earlier, what you did—"

She looked expectantly up at him. Was he going to thank her? It didn't seem his style, but for all she knew he was full of surprises.

"You didn't have to. And it would be better for you if you didn't waste your time."

_Apparently not_. She blinked, puzzled. "Waste my time?"

"With me," he clarified and even under his customary shadow, she could tell that he was embarrassed. Was this foolish male pride or something deeper?

"Erik, I don't mind—"

He flinched at the sound of his own name. A wave of pity tore into her.

"What's the matter?"

He said nothing, only turned away; Christine thought she heard him sigh as he started up the stairs.

A/N: Second of the day! Enjoy—the next chapter may take me a bit longer. Right now, I'm off to smirk cynically at coming home dresses with my cousin.

(Oh, and for the..three Raoul-lovers out there, I'll try to refrain from bashing him too badly. I don't hate the guy, he just sortof gets in the way...-smirk- I'll try to be fair...ish.)


	8. Do A Little Reminiscing

Disclaimer: Me? Own this merriness? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

The urge to follow Erik out of the choir classroom at the end of the hour was a painfully strong one, but Christine resisted. The memory of his pained expression haunted her as she tuned Meg out and walked to French class.

"Bonjour! Bonjour!" the teacher cried, waving her arms like a madwoman. Short, with a shock of violently-red hair, Madame Grace was known to be more than slightly insane. No one really enjoyed her class; besides being difficult to comprehend, it was nearly impossible to sleep through thanks to her habit of jumping on top of desks and belting out Celine Dion songs.

"Bonjour," Meg muttered back. Christine only nodded, still lost in thought.

The teacher bounced. "Off in our own little world, eh, mademoiselle?"

Christine nodded again. Madame Grace bounced more madly.

"Tu as sommeil, eh?"

"Beg pardon?" Christine twitched. "Did you just say, 'you have sleep'?"

Grace laughed. "Non, non, Mlle Daaè. I have much to teach you, yes I do…"

"Can't wait," Christine muttered. Meg, having apparently forgiven her for the Raoul-incident, sniggered.

Christine sat down and instantly put her head down on the desk. "I can't do this today," she groaned. Meg prodded her from the next seat over.

"Just keep your head down. Maybe she'll forget about you."

"Fat chance."

Indeed, Madame Grace seemed rather bent on tormenting the poor girl. No matter how small Christine tried to make herself seem, the teacher always found her and demanded, "Où est tu nèe?" or something equally foreign-sounding.

By the end of the period, Christine had been reduced to very quiet mutters and had slid all the way down in her seat. Worst of all, she was stuck humming "Champs Elysees", the most annoyingly catchy of songs.

The two girls escaped into the hallway just as the bell rang; Christine immediately turned to the nearest set of lockers and began banging her head against them.

"Get. It. Out," she growled. Meg grabbed her and wrenched her backwards, smiling theatrically at the pack of freshman who were staring at the seemingly-insane brunette.

"Christine, that won't help," she said quickly. "Trust me, the song will fade with time. A head injury, on the other hand…"

"I know, I know," the girl shot back grumpily. "Remind me again why I'm taking that class?"

"You want to get in touch with your heritage," Meg said promptly. "Also, I signed you up for it."

"You'll excuse me if I don't thank you for that clever insight just yet…"

"Christine!" a voice called. She didn't bother turning; when one heard one's name being shouted down a school hall, one paid no mind, for it was always in reference to another person.

A hand closed over her shoulder. Raoul, panting and sweating ever so slightly, grinned at her. Meg made a faint coughing noise.

"Can I help you?" Christine asked, remembering to be polite even as she kicked Meg discreetly.

Raoul's grin widened, making him look less like an arrogant football captain and more like a little boy. "I know why I know you!" he told her happily. "Our fathers worked together! We used to play together at company picnics and dinners and things, remember?"

"We…did?" Christine asked blankly.

"Your father's name was Daaè, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was." Christine tilted her head to the side, inspecting the boy's handsome features cautiously. Her memory was beginning to clear…was this really the boy she had once played countless games of Frisbee with? "Raoul…oh my God!"

His smile reached his eyes, crinkling them gently as she laughed delightedly and came forward to hug him tightly.

"Little Lottie," he reminded her cheerfully, speaking into her hair. She giggled again.

"No one but you and Dad called me that…"

Meg coughed again. "You two know each other? How ironic…"

Christine looked at her friend, eyes bright. "He's right, we were really good friends as children, but Dad left that company and we never kept in touch. He wasn't always this tall or buff," she added with a sly expression. "I seem to remember quite the clumsy little creature, always flailing after the softball when we played catch. You've grown."

"So have you," he told her with a smaller smile. "You're beautiful. Who would've thought that tough little tomboy would turn into this?"

She blushed and struck his chest. "I was only trying to keep up with the boys, you know that. I wouldn't have done nearly as many of the things I did if you weren't always daring me to."

"Oh, I'll bet." He laughed, turning his attention to Meg. "Did she ever tell you about the time she broke her arm?"

"No, I don't believe she has." Meg grinned.

"Well, we were eight. We were climbing these massive oak trees in the park and little Miss Daredevil here had gotten up higher than me. I wasn't about to be outdone by a girl, of course, so I got up past her and she came higher than me again. We went back and forth for a while; by this point, we were really high up, I mean at the top of this poor old tree. And Little Lottie here, she thought she'd just go one branch higher, just to really spite me."

"And I fell," Christine said with a reminiscent chuckle.

"I thought she was dead at first," Raoul admitted. "It was the scariest thing I've ever experienced."

"_You_?" Christine exclaimed. "My arm was bent at the most grotesque angle you can imagine! I was screaming my head off and Monkey Boy here was trying to climb down without breaking his own neck—"

"Sounds like fun," Meg said with a laugh. "I'm sorry I missed out on it." Her eyes glittered. "I would have loved to sign your cast."

"I think I actually still have it somewhere…"

"Your _cast_?"

"Yes." Christine grinned. "The doctors let me hang onto it when I told them it had sentimental value. Really, I just didn't want to get rid of these really horrible little drawings Raoul and my father had drawn on it…neither of them have any artistic talent, you know."

"Hey, I'll have you know that those were my best works ever!" Raoul cried, feigning a hurt expression.

"Hon, that isn't exactly something to brag about." Christine laughed again, reaching up to playfully ruffle his hair.

He smirked. "Very funny." Glancing at his watch, he added, "Ah, I have to go. I'm supposed to pick up some groceries for my mom. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay," Christine answered, hugging him again. "Raoul?" He turned back. "It was really nice to see you."

He grinned again. "Yeah, same here."

When he was out of earshot, Meg made a squeaking sort of sound and half-tackled Christine in pure excitement. "I don't believe you!" she squealed for the second time that day. "You know Raoul! You know Raoul!"

She was referring to him as if he were some sort of celebrity. Christine couldn't resist rolling her eyes.

"Come on, let's go. I have math homework."

The two left, not giving the school another thought.

Just around the corner, Erik leaned back against a locker, closing his eyes, biting his lip, and trying very hard to fight off an alien emotion.

A/N: Hmm, bad ending to a (what I think is a) decent chapter. Before you all leap on me over the C/R moment, let me assure you that I do ship Erik/Christine all the way. No worries, I won't do a one-eighty on you. This is just my character development/attempt at being unbiased.

Review Replies:

Angel-of-Music1331- lol, and there will be more bonding. You can look forward to it.

Aki T- I LOVE YOU! Lol, I really appreciate all the reviewing you've been doing. I think I may dedicate a chapter to you. Or at least offer you a freshly-baked cookie. –holds out plate-

flamingice- Ah, the mirror scene. I haven't really thought that far ahead yet. But I will do my best.

EmailyGirl- You thought Meg was being mean? Whoops, that wasn't my intention at all. I just see her as sort of a sarcastic type, one who sort of worships Raoul…dunno where that came from. I'll try to sweeten her slightly, but I don't want to change her character too drastically.

-grins- I still love you guys. The next chapter should be up soon…maybe tomorrow.


	9. Unexpected Anger

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

Christine had never entered lunch in such a good mood. For the first time in three days, she hadn't been overcome by a sense of desperate depression and she blamed this on the fact that her Geometry class had been quiet.

Of course, this meant that Erik had not been present; she hadn't been remotely thrilled with that part. Even worse, Mr. Hall hadn't seemed to have a clue as to where the curious young man was…and he hadn't really seemed to care.

Christine's liking for the man was dropping by the day.

"You look happy," Meg observed as Christine trooped into the cafeteria and sat down. The brunette shrugged.

"My classes weren't as hellish as usual. How are you?"

"Fine—wait." Meg's eyes narrowed. "What is this? No whining? No moping? No 'poor Erik!'?"

"He wasn't here today." Christine's shoulders slumped a bit. "Maybe he's sick…"

"Or maybe he's skipping," Meg hypothesized. "He _is_ a senior."

"I guess…" Though it wasn't much, the reminder of Erik's disappearance punctured Christine's happy balloon. She rested her chin on her folded arms.

Meg groaned. "Oh, no you don't. You came here looking chipper and that will continue if you know what's good for you. Besides, you have a visitor."

For the first time, Christine noticed the gray backpack on the table beside Meg. "Whose is that?"

"Mine." Grinning, Raoul took a seat next to her, slinging long legs on either side of the blue plastic chair. "How's your day been, Little Lottie?"

"Better than most," she answered truthfully.

"Glad to hear it." He rummaged in his bag for a moment, then gave a triumphant little, "Ah ha!" Waving a plastic bag in front of her face, he asked, "Cookie?"

Christine laughed at the sheer oddity of the question. As she reached for the bag, the back of her neck prickled. Uneasy, she glanced over her shoulder, but no one appeared to be looking in her direction.

"What's wrong?" Meg asked. Shivering, Christine shook her head.

"I don't…I thought…Never mind."

"Are you sure?" her friend asked, reaching over to rub Christine's arm lightly. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, no ghost…," Christine muttered absently. "I think I'm just a little paranoid. Enough people here have been rude…personally, I think I'm sort of entitled."

Raoul lifted his head. "Rude?" he repeated. "Rude how?"

"It isn't important," she told him, shifting in her seat in an effort to rid herself of the strange feeling. His brow furrowed in a frown; she tapped him nonchalantly on the head. "Don't worry."

"Mm…all right. But if they continue to bother you…" His voice trailed off. She smiled.

"I know. You'll be there, right?"

"Absolutely." His eyes softened. "So, there's a party on Friday."

"A party?" Christine blinked. "Where did this come from?"

He lifted his shoulders and took a large bite out of a cookie. "Well, I thought it would be fun if we went."

"Together?" Christine asked, frowning slightly. Nice as Raoul was and despite the history they had, she wasn't sure she wanted to be alone with him all night. One could only talk about memories and football for so long…

"Well, the three of us," he answered, looking not even a little abashed. Christine couldn't help but think instinctively of Erik; if he had been the one asking her to a party, she was sure that he would get all shy and sweet…

_Stop that!_ her mind admonished yet again. _Erik isn't here right now and it isn't helping that knot in your stomach to think about him…wait, knot? When did that find its way in there?_

"What do you think, Christine?" Meg was asking. She forced a smile, trying to keep herself under control. Or rather her thoughts…why did they insist on wandering so?

"I think it isn't a bad idea. Sounds like fun, even. I look forward to it."

Raoul's eyes lit up. "Terrific!"

Meg grinned as well. "Christine, I never thought of you as a party animal. Why the sudden change?"

The teen laughed. "Hey, I am capable of fun."

"You are?"

Raoul snickered. "As long as no bones are broken this time…"

"Oh, are you ever going to let me live that down?" Christine beat him with her notebook. "You haughty little—"

He was giggling uncontrollably now. Meg shook her head.

"Ah, lover's quarrels…"

Christine's blood froze. All the humor drained from her face and she hissed, "What did you say?"

Looking surprised, Meg murmured, "It was a joke, Chrissy. Relax."

"Yeah? Not a very funny one," Christine snapped.

Raoul seemed taken aback by her response. "Christine—"

"I don't want to talk right now," she said quickly, standing up and grabbing her backpack. "I think I'm going to go down to the choir room. I'll see you in class."

Meg nodded, still looking confused. Without even a goodbye to Raoul, Christine swept from the cafeteria. Her head was throbbing; what was the matter with her? Since when did she snap at petty comments?

_Since someone talked about you and Pretty Boy_, her mind muttered.

_That's a nice nickname_, she thought to herself. _Insulting old friends…yeah, _that's_ the Daaè way._

She scowled to herself. What had made her fly off the handle like that? Meg had only been kidding…why did the concept of being with Raoul make her so angry?

No, not angry. Irate. It made no sense…

She entered the choir room loudly, not expecting to find anyone. Madame Giry was there, however, seated at a desk and reading a book.

"Christine?" she questioned. "You're early. Very early. Is something wrong?"

"I think I'm losing my mind," the girl replied darkly. "Other than that, I'm fine." She heaved a sigh and sank down in her seat, pounding her head lightly on the desktop. She'd been doing that a lot lately, she reflected vaguely. If it continued for too much longer, she might be looking at some charming brain damage. A concussion, if she was lucky.

_If you're a vegetable, you won't be able to worry about Erik or those weird butterflies dancing in your stomach_, her mind taunted. _Or the way you've been obsessing about the eyes that you've never seen…_

"Losing your mind?" Madame Giry repeated. "How so?"

Christine nuzzled against the cool table, eyes closed. "It isn't important," she mumbled. "It's just the new environment, I think. And…and…I don't know. It isn't important."

Madame Giry looked like she desperately wanted to pry, but kept mercifully silent. Christine sighed, her breath fanning against the desk like a whisper.

The next thing she knew, the bell was ringing and the class was full. Yawning, she opened her eyes and sat up straighter to find Meg's eyes boring into her. She didn't meet the curious sapphire orbs.

"Madame, would you like me to go get Erik?" she asked instead.

The woman's forehead creased in a frown. "No, dear, that's all right. Meg can get him, can't you?"

Meg nodded. Christine watched her friend leave, feeling her heart fall back down toward her sneakers. _Why aren't I getting him? That's supposed to be my job…_

It seemed an eternity before the familiar shadow swept into the room. Christine tried in vain to meet his eyes (or where his eyes were hiding, anyway), but he never once looked in her direction. Meg did, though, and she offered a small smile of reconciliation. The brunette allowed her lips to quirk upward.

"Are you okay?" Meg whispered as they lined up.

"Fine. Sorry about going apeshit on you."

"Apeshit?" Meg snorted with suppressed laughter. "Where the hell did you learn that word?"

Christine blinked. It was rather unlike her to swear and she wasn't at all certain why she had. It was the constant mood swings, she decided glumly. Perhaps she was PMS-ing earlier than usual. The idea, though not a welcome one, at least made sense. At this stage in her life, things that made sense were quite welcome, she decided.

"Never mind," Meg was saying quickly. "Raoul's worried about you. You might want to give him a call, reassure him."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow," Christine answered hastily.

"Are you sure—"

"Positive."

Madame tapped a ruler against her desk. "Class, we're going to put the piece we've been rehearsing aside for a moment and start a new song. This is more contemporary; some of you may know it."

"Great, she's been digging through my CDs again," Meg groaned. Christine chuckled, accepting the lyric sheet she was handed.

"Evanescence?" she muttered in surprise. This wasn't Meg's usual type of music…

Her friend appeared to be thinking the same thing. "Wow, Mom's branching out."

"Begin…now!" Madame Giry instructed over Erik's swift piano music. The class began to sing along, more strongly than Christine had expected. She guessed that most of the kids knew the song.

_I linger in the doorway  
Of alarm clock screaming  
Monsters calling my name  
Let me stay  
Where the wind will whisper to me  
Where the raindrops  
As they're falling tell a story_

In my field of paper flowers  
And candy clouds of lullaby  
I lie inside myself for hours  
And watch my purple sky fly over me

Don't say I'm out of touch  
With this rampant chaos- your reality  
I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge  
The nightmare I built my own world to escape

Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming  
Cannot cease for the fear of silent nights  
Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming  
The goddess of imaginary light

"And stop there!" Madame shouted. The music stopped abruptly, with no smooth transition into silence. Surprised, the class fell silent as well.

"Doesn't he usually do that…better?" Meg asked quietly. Christine, having thought the same thing, stared at Erik's hunched-over form; his shoulders seemed more tense than usual, as if he'd been through some massively stressful ordeal.

"That wasn't bad, but I'd like you to try again with a bit more feeling," Madame commanded. Her eyes flicked to Erik. "That is okay with you, right?"

He shrugged noncommittally. Christine bit back a sigh.

They continued like this for the rest of the hour, singing as emotionally as they could and being stopped continuously by Madame Giry. She seemed to have a critical comment for everyone (especially, they girls were pleased to note, for Carlotta, who had been attempting to carry the entire song herself). By the end of class, every student felt sure that their brains would implode upon hearing "Imaginary" again…yet every student was humming it softly under their breath.

"I hate her," Meg mumbled. "I won't be able to get this out of my head for weeks…"

"Look on the bright side—next hour, we'll have the Titanic soundtrack," Christine told her, smirking and tapping one hand rhythmically against her knee.

The bell rang, loudly enough to make Meg groan: "Oh, my head…I think I need aspirin…I'll see you in class, Chrissy, okay? I'm going to stop by the office."

"'Kay," Christine answered inattentively, watching Erik as he made his usual sneaky escape. When he was gone, she walked quickly over to Madame Giry and asked, "Excuse me? Why didn't you let me get him?"

The questions came out childish-sounding and Christine cursed herself for that. Even worse was the way she felt when Madame Giry frowned.

"He asked me specifically not to send you. He gave no explanation," she added when Christine opened her mouth again. "He simply said to send someone else this time."

Christine closed her eyes. What had she done? She obviously offended him somehow…

"Go to class," Madame prodded gently. "If you're late, your teacher will be upset."

Christine obeyed, feeling numb. Erik was angry with her. How could this be? She hadn't seen him all day! What could she have possibly done to upset him?

She mulled this over and by the time she'd reached French, she had her mind made up: she was going to ask him.

A/N: Another crazy update! Geez, I really have no life.

Review Replies:

MadameAngel-bows- Glad to be of such entertainment. I really appreciate your loyal reviews. Cookie? –offers plate-

Pirate Perian- I meant his tone more than anything else, but don't feel stupid; I probably would have been confused myself.

Madelynn Rae- Well, thank you.

AMLisdabomb- Lol, well I don't know about the naked part, but I will agree that rain and making out is hot…hmm…-plots-

Chibi Hime- Gotta love the angst.

-has never loved reviewers so much- You guys are amazing, I bow to your loyalty. Hope you enjoy this chapter as well.


	10. An Invitation

Disclaimer: Me? Own this happy, happy thing? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

French class seemed to take forever. Christine tersely drummed her fingers against the desk as she watched the clock.

"Five minutes," she whispered. The longest five minutes of her life. Maybe if she stared at it and didn't blink, she could make the time go by faster.

As if reading her thoughts, Meg glanced up. "You know that clock's five minutes fast, right?" she hissed so as not to attract the attention of their mental teacher. Christine gave a monstrously loud groan and smashed her head down on the table. Her vision spun.

"Mlle Daaè?" Madame Grace asked. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Never better," Christine lied unconvincingly, plowing her forehead into the desk again. _Brain damage, brain damage, brain damage…_

"Well, I know something that will make you feel better!" Madame chirped, hopping over to her ancient cassette-player. "The great song stylings of Celine!"

The entire class mirrored Christine's head-against-the-table movement. The teacher did not notice; she simply pressed play.

"My heart will go on!" she cried cheerfully, doing a horrible little dance.

Meg twitched visibly. "Next class, you're distracting her and I'm flinging that out of the window. And we'll burn the books and tapes too. I will watch no Madeline!"

Christine shut her eyes. Under any other circumstances, this entire scene would be funny, she thought miserably. At the present time, however, the ache for Erik, the strange desire to talk to him, to console him…it was burning her alive.

The bell chimed weakly, as if it were ill. Before she could blink, Christine was out of her desk, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder, and out of the door. Behind her, she heard Meg shout, "Christine, where are you going?" She couldn't have cared less; only one word ran through her mind.

_Erik, Erik, Erik, Erik, ERIK!_

_You really are losing it,_ her mind told her cheerlessly. _You're going to end up in an insane asylum._

_Don't care,_ she thought back determinedly as she shot down the choir hall. It didn't even occur to her that she was having a perfectly-serious conversation with herself, although she supposed later that it probably wasn't a good sign.

Skidding to a stop at the familiar door to her sanctuary, another thought hit her. What if Madame Giry was in here? Surely she wouldn't let her through.

_Damn, now I have to think up a plan of attack…_

Cautiously, she poked her head into the room. It was empty—Madame must have rushed out early. Thanking God, Christine slipped in and headed for that mysterious door, the long staircase, and the shadow that she knew she would find at the end of the tunnel.

_Well, not a tunnel. A staircase. Whatever._

The door was closed. Apprehension punched through her; what if he wasn't there?

_Then I'll just wait for him._

She was insane! What the hell was she thinking? Stalking a poor guy who probably never wanted to see her again because she'd accidentally killed his livelihood somehow…what would her father think?

She stopped, her hand on the doorknob. Her father. Would he be ashamed of the way she was behaving? Yelling at her friends, acting like a child toward her teachers, giving herself numerous bruises out of a need for a tortured young man?

Or would he be proud of her? She was, after all, going to speak to a boy whose entire day seemed made up of insults and helping teachers. She was trying to brighten his day, really. What harm was there in that?

_You're stalling_, her mind reminded her. _And you're still insane._

_Thank you._

She pushed the door open. The room was, as she had feared, was empty of all Eriks. She went in, stomach quivering.

_I really hope he comes back soon, because I don't think I can handle staying here overnight…What are these?_

She lightly brushed her fingers against one of the posters on the wall. It was advertising what looked like a carnival…was Erik a carnie? She blinked. He really didn't seem the type. Weren't carnies usually leering men with too much facial hair?

Maybe she'd been reading too many horror books.

Not all the posters were about this weird little fair. Some were advertising symphonies that she'd never heard of. Could he be a part of _these_?

Turning her attention to the small desk, she flipped through the various papers and books. A battered copy of George Orwell's _1984_, some geometry papers that he was obviously in the process of checking…a sketchbook.

Intrigued, Christine picked up the weathered-looking hardcover and stared down at it. She was snooping, she knew, prying into this poor boy's private life. By opening this, she would be crossing a line…one that she wasn't too keen on crossing.

She set the book back down.

_You should get out of here_, her rational side warned. _If he comes back to find you snooping around, he's not going to be happy. Remember? He likes his solitude._

Christine sighed. Logic was beginning to win out, as it so often did. She needed to get out of this room, to escape the gentle scent of Erik that lingered here…

"What do you think you're doing?" an angry voice demanded. Christine whirled around.

Erik's lip was curled in a way she'd never seen before. He looked as angry as she had felt earlier. Her heart wrenched.

"I-I was looking for you," she admitted. "I wanted to see you."

"You saw me fourth hour," he shot back, still hovering in the doorway. It was as if she had some horrible disease that he was afraid of catching. She swallowed.

"I saw you, but you didn't…did I do something wrong?"

He seemed caught off-guard by the question. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you've never told Madame Giry that you didn't want to see me before. I wanted to know why." Her resolve strengthened.

Unfortunately, so did his. "It's only been a few days. You can't have thought you'd always be the one to fetch me."

Hurt washed over her. Why was he treating her like a little kid?

"You don't have a right to be in here," he continued roughly. "Get out. I told Madame that I didn't want…God!" He slammed a fist against the doorframe, then sank down in a crouch, bending over so his head was resting against his knees.

Christine stood there for a moment, helpless. "Erik…"

"Go away," he murmured, not sounding quite so angry. "I can't deal with this right now…"

She came to his side, kneeling down and gently resting a hand on his shoulder. He was trembling.

"Erik, what's wrong?" she asked softly.

He shook his head against his jean-clad legs and said nothing. She gave a tiny sigh.

"Erik, I want to help you. Tell me why you told Madame not to send for me anymore."

He muttered something unintelligibly. She tilted her head to the side.

"What?"

"I said, because you don't need this either," he repeated more loudly. "Making friends with me is not worth it, believe me. Or believe _them_; they'll tell you anything you need to know about me." He sounded disgusted, though she couldn't tell if it was at his peers or himself.

She tried to peer more closely at him. "Erik…I don't want to believe them. I want to believe you. Tell me what's wrong; why do they do this to you?"

"Because," he said simply. "I'm a freak."

She frowned. "You aren't a freak."

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Want to bet?" She leaned her face closer to his; he turned back into his knees.

"Erik…do you want to do something with me?"

His body gave a visible jerk. "Like what?" he asked guardedly.

"Like…go to a party? Show people that you aren't a freak, that you can have fun just like them?"

He lifted his head. "Are you kidding me?"

"Not in the slightest," she replied. "Will you come?"

Erik seemed to consider it. Then he got up, very suddenly, and paced to the other side of the tiny room.

"No," he answered. She blinked.

"Why not?"

"Because it's a pity invitation," he spat. "I don't do pity, Miss Daaè."

"It is _not_ pity," she shot back. "I really want you to come. We're going with a little group and I'll make sure no one bothers you. Okay?"

He turned his back to her and said nothing. She huffed loudly.

"Erik, I am putting my foot down. You are coming with us. Sitting here in your private Batcave is not healthy."

Erik twisted around to face her. "And who says you have any say in the matter? You've known me for, what? Two days?"

"Three," she answered defiantly. "And you're coming. We'll be picking you up at eight. What's your address?"

"I'm not telling you that!" he cried, but she could hear the resignation in his voice.

"Then I'll just stalk you," she told him. "We can do this the hard way if you'd prefer, Erik, but I'd really rather it if you came quietly."

He gritted his teeth, then ground out, "Give me a sheet of paper and I'll write it down."

"That's more like it." Satisfied, Christine reached into her backpack and drew out a pen and notebook. Looking like he was signing his own death warrant, Erik scribbled out a street address and pushed it back into her hands.

"Eight?" he asked quietly. She grinned.

"Eight. And you _will_ have fun. I guarantee it."

A/N: Wow, that came out a bit more humorously than planned. Ah well, I'm sure you guys won't mind much.

Review Replies (there's so many!):

Aki T- Ooh, candy! Lol, yes, there will be more E/C moments.

Rilette- Wow, magnificent? –is thrilled by the sparkly word-

erik'sangel527- Thanks so much for all the great reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.

La Foamy- Look! An update! –grins-

Tsuki- You're so random, my Muffiny buddy. Tanks for all the reviews.

AMLisdabomb- lol, I don't think Erik's going to contract heatstroke anytime soon…but I'm sure he's glad that you're thinking of him.

Once Upon a Thyme- Got it all under control. –updates-grins-

Angel-of-Music1331- Sure, have another cookie. I have a whole plate here for my awesome reviewers!

EmailyGirl- Aw, don't cry. Erik's life is getting slightly better; -points up at chapter- look! A party!

Pirate Perian- Gotta love Evanescence.

Sorry if I missed anyone! I get slightly confused when I review reply, not always sure if I've already answered someone. Lol, enjoy this update and I'll be back again soon. Not sure if there'll be another one tonight though; I have to drag my butt to Coming Home. –rolls eyes-


	11. Erik's Nerves

Disclaimer: Me? Own this loverly tale of Phantomyness? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

A/N: And we _finally_ get a bit of Erik's perspective. Yey!

_"Eight?" he asked quietly. She grinned._

_"Eight. And you will have fun. I guarantee it."_

That had been Thursday. It was Friday now, and Erik was pacing his diminutive room, trying to figure a way out of what he had agreed to. Back and forth he went, every step growing heavier than the last as it dawned on him that Christine Daaè knew exactly where he lived and would not be letting up on him anytime soon.

He'd seen her last in Madame Giry's class, as usual, and she had shot him a secret little smile, pointing at her wrist and mouthing, "Eight."

Behind his protective shadow, he'd blushed. Why couldn't she be like other girls? Forgetful and ditzy, those were the types he preferred to be around; they usually ignored him, stirred nothing whatsoever in his nervous heart.

Christine stirred something.

He grimaced at his watch. Five-thirty. He couldn't stay here any longer, not without trouble from his father. And trouble was the last thing he needed on a day like this one.

Leaving his refuge, he took the stairs at a brisk pace and found his way out into sunlight. He squinted in the unusual brightness and pulled his coat instinctively around himself. It was hot, but years of dressing in layers had conditioned him for such weather and it barely annoyed him. The sunlight, on the other hand…he was convinced that sunlight would never stop getting on his nerves.

_Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of doubt…_,he thought idly, hands in his pockets. An elderly woman shot him a strange look; he didn't bother smiling back. Time and time again he'd tried that approach, only to be stuffed each time.

Dogs yapped at him. Children stared and yelled at their parents: "Look at that boy, Mommy! Why is he dressed like that?"

If they only knew why he wore what he did. If they only knew what he was protecting them from…

But no one knew. No one outside of his immediate family and Madame Giry, anyway, and he was intent on keeping it that way. Why share your feelings with a world that will only desert you in the end?

Would Christine desert him? He assumed so; all one had was oneself in life. Still, the knowledge that she would one day abandon him, after she'd been so kind, made him feel sick inside. As if his heart was in a vice and that vice was squeezing tighter, tighter—

_What am I supposed to _wear The panicked thought rose above all the others, a shriek amidst a steady drone. Christine had said a party, right? What kind of party? It was a Friday night…so probably a simple bash, thrown by the idiot preps of the school. Erik's lip curled at the memory of the school's football team, raised onto the shoulders of the flock and carried around like Egyptian royalty.

_What a waste of time._

This party would most likely turn out to be a waste of time too, but there was no way out. Christine had blocked off every exit he had, save for fleeing the country. Besides, there was no way he was staying home with his father tonight. Not on Friday…not when the booze flew and the friends came to call.

Shaking his head, Erik made his way up his driveway and through the side door of his home. No car in said driveway—good. That meant Dad was out still, probably working. If Erik was lucky, he'd be gone before the man returned and back after he had passed out on the couch.

His bedroom was in the basement. The safest place, as far as he was concerned; no sunlight, no way of anyone entering without him hearing. As much of a sanctuary as one could hope for in a small brick house with no panic room.

Tossing his bag on the bed, he sighed and looked around. He would not change his clothing, not for this party. That would complicate things too much. But he _would _shower; Christine deserved that much of a courtesy.

_How many people was she talking about?_ he wondered as he went into his bathroom and turned on the hot water. _Five? Eight? Twenty?_ Erik hated crowds almost as much as they hated him. He wished he had thought to ask her the specific number that he'd have to contend with. All. Night. Long.

He shed his heavy clothing and, carefully avoiding the mirror, stepped under the spray. His face, sweaty from being concealed for yet another day, thrilled at the sensation of air and fresh water against the skin. He washed his hair quickly, then got out, toweled off, and re-donned the shirt, hoodie, jeans and jacket. His hair was still damp; annoyed, he kept the hood off and searched for a hair dryer.

The shaggy dark locks fell into his eyes as he plugged the appliance in and kept as far from his reflection as possible. Two minutes and he was free to throw up his hood once more, hiding himself not only from the world but from…himself. He didn't want to see his own face again, not now, not ever.

_How do you go about your life when you hate yourself?_ The thought appeared in mind, mocking him. He banished it as quickly as he could.

Time check: Six-eighteen. He had two hours to do nothing.

"Terrific," he muttered to himself. "Reading time."

Picking up a thin vampire novel, he scanned the cover of Amelia Atwater-Rhodes' _Shattered Mirror_. A title he could identify with, he mused darkly as he settled back onto his bed and opened the book. This would do nicely to pass the time.

A/N: Okay, another shorty. I'm sorry, I just can't stay away!

Review Replies:

MadameAngel- I'm glad you like it so much. That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside!

Totschafe- Aww, don't explode! Here, have another chapter!


	12. To the Party!

Disclaimer: Me? Own this...splendiforous thing? Or the songs that I randomly stuck in? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"Where are we going?" Raoul asked as he maneuvered his car through traffic. Meg glanced at Christine, surprised.

"We're going somewhere?"

"To this address," Christine answered coolly. "28267 Yale. We need to pick someone up."

Meg frowned slightly. "Another someone? I thought this was the full party."

Christine said nothing in response to this. Her stomach had tied itself into knots again and she was a bit preoccupied with trying to _untie_ said knots. Would Erik be ready? Or would he have found somewhere to hide, away from her?

She tapped her fingers against the door handle. Raoul glanced at her out of the corner of his eye; she looked away. Dealing was Raoul was not something she wanted to handle, not when she was so extremely stressed out. He had said that her outburst hadn't bothered him in the slightest, but somehow she doubted the truth behind this statement.

"Stop here," she commanded, smoothing her skirt nervously and peeking out of the car window. The house was not nearly as exciting as the young man who was inside (_hopefully inside…_): it was built of standard red bricks and only had one level to it. There was a large, tangled bush set on either side of the concrete porch. There was nothing distinguishing about it.

Christine's throat dried instantly at the sight of it.

Gathering her courage, she got out of the Jeep and strode purposefully up the walkway to the front door and knocked. _No hesitation_, she told herself, _just action. It'll be harder for him to fight action._

There was a short wait during which Christine seriously debated leaving out of sheer anxiety. Then the door opened a crack and a familiar voice asked, "Christine?"

She grinned stupidly, relieved. "Who else?"

Erik opened the door the rest of the way and she saw his lips move upward in a phantom smile. "Well, the neighborhood kids have this nasty habit involving rocks and a doorbell…but never mind."

"Are you ready?" she asked, trying to disregard the off-hand tone to his pained words.

"Of course." He stepped out of the doorway at last, revealing to her an outfit unchanged from the day. This didn't bother her in the slightest; _Hey, at least he came out._

The rest of their party didn't quite share her feelings on the subject.

"Are you kidding me?" Meg hissed from her shotgun position as Christine clambered back into the backseat. "You invited…"

"Shadow-man?" Raoul finished, whirling around and staring at Christine with intense eyes. "Christine, did he force you to let him come along or something?"

"No!" she cried. "Shut up, guys, he's nervous enough about this already."

"Oh, is he?" Raoul sneered. "I wonder why. It isn't like anyone really wants him here—"

"_I_ do," Christine whispered harshly. "Raoul, if you have a problem, then we'll walk."

The football player gritted his teeth, but fell silent. Christine turned to Erik, who was hovering about two feet away from the Jeep. "You can come in, you know," she told him kindly, grinning. Nodding, he climbed in beside her and buckled his seatbelt with shaking fingers, making sure to keep a safe distance from her so nothing inconvenient could happen, like bodily contact.

_Yeah,_ her mind muttered grumpily, _inconvenient…_

The rest of the ride took place in utter silence. Christine shot glances at all three of her friends, but not one of them looked back. Erik's fingers moved restlessly against the leg of his jeans, as if he were playing a mad tune on the piano. Amused, Christine watched him. He didn't even seem to realize what he was doing, as if it were some kind of nervous habit. It was cute, she thought absently.

"We're here," Raoul grunted, stating the obvious as only he could. He turned off the engine and waited, as if he were afraid that once he left the car, Erik would grab Christine, hotwire the Jeep, and speed off. Christine snorted at the very idea.

"What's so funny?" Erik asked curiously. She shook her head, banishing her amusement.

"Nothing. Are we going to join the party or should I go steal some chips and bring them back here?"

Meg opened her door. "Well, I don't know about you, but I need some music…and maybe a drink."

At this comment, Erik twitched slightly. "I hope you don't mean beer," he began hesitantly. Christine smiled reassuringly.

"I don't drink," she told him.

"Oh." He sighed, obviously relieved. "Neither do I."

"Could've fooled me…," Raoul muttered. Meg elbowed him.

"Jealousy does nothing for your complexion, hon," she told him with a smirk. Christine laughed, but stopped very quickly when her friend glared at her. "You aren't off the hook yet, Chrissy," she continued darkly before turning on her heel and stomping away in search of liquid and rap music.

Muttering something about seeing his teammates, Raoul disappeared as well, leaving Christine with a very nervous-looking Erik. If she could have seen his eyes, she guessed they would be darting around, trying to take in the crowds of laughing, dancing people. As it was, his mouth was set in its usual taut line and he was rocking back on his heels. She decided it was time to act.

"Come on," Christine urged him, impulsively reaching for one of his swinging hands. He flinched as if she'd burned him; she ignored this and dragged him into the swarm of teenagers.

When no one seemed to register their presence and not one insult was thrown, he visibly relaxed. She grinned up at him, gently squeezing his hand. He squeezed back and she nearly fainted out of pleasant surprise.

_Oh, God…I've done it. I got him out. I'm a genius!_

_Won't last,_ her mind retorted.

_Shut up. Let me revel._

The party was set up mostly in the spacious backyard of some random quarterback. A stereo system blared loud music and couples everywhere were taking advantage of the comfortable surroundings to dance or make out. Noting this, Erik seemed to tense up once again.

Christine stopped walking. "Are you going to be like this all night?"

"Like what?" he asked sharply. His eyes seemed to be fixed on a point just over her left shoulder; she grabbed his chin and pointed his face toward her, making the assumption that he could no longer look away.

"Like a trapped rabbit in a field of starving wolves."

"I'm not being…rabbit-like," he protested.

"Oh, you are so being rabbit-like. Bunny man." Now she was just taunting him. An unfair tactic, perhaps, but one that usually worked on men.

Sure enough, Erik blanched. "I…how…no."

"No what?"

"No I won't act like this all night." His shoulders slumped as he admitted defeat. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing too taxing. A dance, maybe?" Without waiting for an answer, Christine looped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer to his bundled-up form. He shivered.

"Dancing? Are you sure you don't want to…I don't know, play chess?"

"What's the matter? Don't know how to boogie?" She smirked; shameless baiting really did work quite nicely.

"Of course I know how to…" He paused. "Did you actually say the word 'boogie'?"

"Retro is in," she commented lightly. "Come on, Erik, one dance. If you hate it with every fiber of your being, I won't make you do it again."

"And if I don't hate it?"

"Then be prepared to sweat." She laughed, inciting a small chuckle out of him.

"All right, one dance. But if I hate it…"

"On my honor, I'll let you sit in the corner and talk to the nearest tree, if so desire."

He laughed a bit more freely. "Or I could chat with you."

"Or you could do that." Her eyes twinkled. "But do me a favor and try to open yourself to new experiences, will you?"

He nodded, allowing himself to relax once again. "What is this?"

"It's called movement."

"Not the dancing! The song."

Christine listened. "Um…Blink 182?"

"Oh." He seemed to be listening to the lyrics rather intently. "I've never…I don't listen to the radio as much as I probably should."

"You want to know the truth?" When he nodded, Christine confided, "Neither do I. I usually just steal Meg's CDs."

He chuckled and she smiled against his shoulder, feeling the vibrations course through her own body.

The music seemed to dance and swirl around them. Despite the warmth of the night, Christine couldn't help but shiver at the haunting words.

_I miss you miss you_

_Hello there the angel from my nightmare_

_The shadow in background of the morgue_

_The unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley_

_We can live like Jack and Sally if we want_

_Where you can always find me_

_And we'll have Halloween on Christmas_

_And in the night we'll wish this never ends_

_We'll wish this never end_

_Where are you and I'm so sorry_

_I cannot sleep I cannot dream tonight_

_I need somebody and always_

_This sick strange darkness comes creeping on so haunting every time_

_And as I stared I counted the webs from all the spiders_

_catching things and eating their insides_

_Like indecision to call you_

_And hear your voice of treason_

_Will you come home and stop this pain tonight_

_stop this pain tonight_

_Don't waste your time on me your already the voice inside my head…_

By the time the song was complete, Christine's fingers were digging gently into the back of Erik's neck. He didn't mind; dancing was actually quite the agreeable act, when one was with the proper person.

_Quite the agreeable act? What the hell, have you fallen into some classic novel again?_

He smiled and pulled Christine a bit closer to himself. She sighed contentedly, nuzzling against his shoulder.

"Did you hate it?" she asked quietly. He shook his head. "Good. I didn't think you would."

They swayed together through another song before the beat picked up. Erik stepped back, expecting her go inside for some water or something…but no, she was grabbing his hands and laughing.

"Aw, don't turn into a pumpkin on me now!" she cried cheerfully, twirling herself around. "I love this song!"

"What is it?"

"Dashboard Confessional!" she exclaimed.

He decided to take her word for it and supposed that he should probably listen to the radio more than once every four months or so.

_Hey girl, you've got a smart way about you_

_That makes me_

_Wish that I was smart enough for you_

_Hey girl, you've got a fine laugh_

_And I think that I_

_Could get used to that_

_And you're already used to laughing at_

_Me_

_So what if your friends think I'm crazy?_

_Well, I wasn't trying to impress those girls anyway_

_They're all theory, no action_

_And where I'm from_

_We live like it's the latest attraction_

_Hey girl, you've got a short fuse_

_And I've got designs on lighting you up_

_And setting you off_

_And watching you burn for me_

_The world lives for the weekend_

_Well, I'll watch as my weeks bleed right into them_

_Without a line _

_To divide_

_What is theirs _

_And what is_

_Mine_

_So what if your friends think I'm crazy?_

_Well, I wasn't trying to impress those girls anyway_

_They're all theory, no action_

_And where I'm from_

_We live like it's the latest attraction_

_Go on, go on_

_Your cruel intentions won't _

_Solve your problems_

_Everyone's gotta get_

_Bottom_

_Bottomed out in the long run_

_And those are the times you need love_

He was laughing loudly by the end of the song. Never had he danced with a girl, especially not with such open cheerfulness. It seemed that he had never been in public without fear before.

"Thank you," he whispered. Christine looked up at him with flushed cheeks and a radiant smile; a wayward curl fell across her eyes.

"For what?" she asked, giggling a little when he gently pushed the lock of hair back into place.

"For dragging me out here." He was perfectly serious. "You…you've kind of achieved the impossible and for that I thank you. You've managed to give me a moment of normalcy."

_Way to go, Erik, just keep laying on the corn. You're really going to get yourself asked out again this way…_

A/N: CLIFFHANGER! Heh, don't worry, I'll probably update again soon. With angst. –cheerful expression- Hey, you all knew it was coming.

Review Replies (whoo, this may take a while…):

Christie- lol, glad you like it

AFireInside-xx- lol, sorry, I didn't mean to give you seizures…

IndnAngel- Woah, you stopped in the middle of a sentence. Did you faint and collapse on the "submit review" button or what?

PotOFan- I hate them too. –glances up at chapter- Whoops…

Spirit of Halo- Is this quicklike enough for you?

Eek- lol, random is right. Gotta love that coffee. –grins-

Chibi Hime- Erik's really fun to write for…all angsty and spiffy.

SmileVampy- Wow, scrumtrelescent, huh? I may have to use this word in my everyday language now…oh, sorry for getting that crazy French song stuck in your head. –looks sheepish-

Woah, that didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would…did I miss a whole bunch of people? I think I did…sorry to all of you. I offer cookies and milk! And to whomever commented about PotO in 15 Min, that is the most hilarious thing ever. I strongly suggest you go read it if you haven't already, all of you.

Anyway…I guess I'm done for now…see y'all later!


	13. Footballs and Sorrow

Disclaimer: Me? Own this swellness? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

Christine could've done a little dance. No, really, she could have. After all, she was at a party where such actions were not gawked at. And she was with there with the local outcast, whom she had coaxed out into the crisp night air. And danced with.

_He's a good dancer_, she thought with girlish excitement. _I never would have expected that. _

She also wouldn't have expected to hear him laughing, but laughing he was. They were seated in lawn chairs, facing each other and exchanging jokes and Christine was silently patting herself on the back.

"What's your favorite movie?" she asked.

Erik shrugged. "I like…well…" He looked embarrassed. She grinned.

"What?"

"Don't laugh," he implored her. "But I…" He finished in an indistinguishable mumble.

"How can I laugh if I don't even know what it is you're saying?" she asked, gently socking his arm.

"Musicals…romances…," he muttered.

At first, she thought she'd misheard him, but no. He was staring down at the ground, head bent. She reached over to his chair and lightly lifted his chin with her hand.

"That is so sweet," she gushed. "I would've thought you'd say science fiction, personally. Or horror."

His mouth, which had been curved in a shy smile, tightened. "I've seen enough horror in real life, thanks."

She blushed. "I'm sorry. I'm just…I don't understand why you get picked on. You're such a sweet guy."

His cheeks, what she could see beneath the usual shadow, reddened. "It doesn't matter," he told her hurriedly. "I don't want your pity."

"I _don't_ pity you," she told him firmly. "Erik, if we're going to be friends, we have to be honest with each other. I want to know."

"No, you don't." He sighed, bending over as if in prayer. Christine got up from her chair and sat beside him, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist, ignoring the way he stiffened.

"I'll listen whenever you want," she told him quietly. "I'm always here for you, Erik."

He nodded, though she could tell that he didn't really believe her words. She snuggled against his warmth for a moment, then started when he suddenly stood up, taking her hands and pulling her up as well.

"May I have this dance?" he asked bashfully. She grinned, recognizing the music for once.

"Savage Garden?"

He nodded. "One of my favorites. One of the only recent bands I really listen to."

She leaned against his body, allowing his surprisingly-strong arms to envelope her. The thought that he would forever protect her struck her wildly, then danced away before she could fully grasp it. Closing her eyes, she let herself fall into the gentle beat and soothing lyrics.

_When you feel all alone_

_And the world has turned its back on you_

_Give me a moment please to tame your wild wild heart_

_I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you_

_It's hard to find relief and people can be so cold_

_When darkness is upon your door _

_And you feel like you can't take anymore_

_Let me be the one you call_

_If you jump I'll break your fall_

_Lift you up and fly away with you into the night_

_If you need to fall apart_

_I can mend a broken heart_

_If you need to crash then crash and burn_

_You're not alone_

_When you feel all alone_

_And a loyal friend is hard to find_

_You're caught in a one way street_

_With the monsters in your head_

_When hopes and dreams are far away and_

_You feel like you can't face the day_

_Let me be the one you call_

_If you jump I'll break your fall_

_Lift you up and fly away with you into the night_

_If you need to fall apart_

_I can mend a broken heart_

_If you need to crash then crash and burn_

_You're not alone_

_Because there has always been heartache and pain_

_And when it's over you'll breathe again_

_You'll breathe again_

_When you feel all alone_

_And the world has turned its back on you_

_Give me a moment please_

_To tame your wild wild heart_

_Let me be the one you call_

_If you jump I'll break your fall_

_Lift you up and fly away with you into the night_

_If you need to fall apart_

_I can mend a broken heart_

_If you need to crash then crash and burn_

_You're not alone_

Erik let the last words fall around him. _You're not alone…_ Could those words actually be true for the first time in his life? The thought was so peaceful that he couldn't quite imagine why he'd been so worried to begin with.

Then something large and heavy cracked him in the back of his skull and the moment was completely shattered.

Disoriented, Erik stumbled, releasing Christine with a cry of pain. His vision was spinning; he tried to blink and shake it off. Something else, something smaller, collided with his back.

_Beer can_, he registered dimly. _Beer cans and a football. Oh God, I should've known better…_

He couldn't quite meet Christine's horrified eyes. There would be sympathy there, he knew, and anger; worst of all, there would be pity, so much terrible pity that he would surely drown in it. No, it was best to keep his eyes focused on the grass, to try to climb to his feet and ignore the jeers and shouts that his peers were throwing his way.

"Who invited you, Freak?" one cried.

"Are you drunk?" another screamed. "You must be, to think we want you here."

"What the hell is your problem?" Christine shrieked, coming to his side and placing her body protectively in front of his own. Erik closed his eyes in shame; now he needed a girl to rescue him from these people?

"Christine, get away from him!" he heard Raoul yell and within seconds the football player was dragging her away. "He's dangerous!"

"Dangerous?" Christine screamed back, her voice raw with emotion. "What the hell are you talking about? How is he dangerous?"

The handsome young man seemed at a loss for words at this; Erik wasn't sure if this was a natural lack of wit or a side effect of the drinking he'd been doing. Either way, he decided he didn't care. Coming to this function had been a complete waste of time; he was only glad that he had come to his senses before he got too used to this compassionate treatment.

Shoving his hands into his pockets and disregarding the ringing in his ears, he turned and set off at a hurried pace. If he got home quickly and quietly, perhaps he wouldn't have to deal with his father…

_No. Not home. I can't deal with that shit tonight._

Where then? Where else could he go, without having to worry about human interaction—the room. Of course; Madame Giry had offered him a key for that specific purpose. She was the only one, it seemed, who understood…the only one who cared.

_What about Christine? She's calling you, you idiot. Go to her._

_And risk getting pelted and humiliated again? Fat chance._

He blocked out her cries and kept moving. He could stay in the room until Monday. It wasn't as if anyone would miss him.

A/N: Can you tell I like incorporating song lyrics? –grins- So…all you folks who were excited about the happy Erik, I can only apologize. You knew it couldn't last. I mean, this is poor Erik we're talkin' about here.

Review Replies:

erik'sangel527- Never read that one, is it any good? I think E/C's pretty much a given now. If I were to change, I'd have a thousand people coming after me. –laughs-

MadameAngel- Aw, you're proud of me? That's so sweet! And I don't mind that you say that every time, it actually makes me really happy.

Aki T- Woah, spazzing. Don't spaz; here, another chapter! With angst! Yey! And I'm really sorry I didn't reply to you, I got all mixed up in my system…there were a whole bunch I didn't thank. So I think I'll thank them all right here. Ready?

THANK YOU EVERYBODY! I LOVE YOU ALL!

There we go. A bit generic, but heartfelt all the same. I'm almost at 100 reviews! My God, that's like…95 more than I usually get! –cheery expression-

Oh, and the rating's going to go up. I just thought I'd mention it because it's….going to go up. To at least a PG-13. By this chapter or the next, I think.


	14. Anger and Slappage

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

For Christine, no weekend had ever been so nerve-wracking. She'd tried time and time again to contact Erik (by phone, by walking past his house—hell, she'd even looked up his email address through some rarely-used hacking skills), to no avail. He seemed to have simply disappeared.

So when she trudged into first hour and saw him sitting at his usual desk, in his usual concealing clothing, her first instinct was to faint with relief. Her second was to go up to him and beat the hell out of him for scaring her so badly. Her third, which was the one she actually acted on, was to go up to him and just stand there, staring at him.

He lifted his head, clearly tired. "Can I help yo—oh. Hi."

"Hi?" she repeated. "_Hi?_ You…you…Erik!"

Oddly enough, he seemed almost amused by her lack of insulting terms. This only angered her more; she punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

"Ow!" he yelped, reminding her of the reason he'd run off on Friday night. Her expression softened.

"I'm sorry. But you scared me so badly."

"Scared you?" he repeated blankly. "How did I scare—"

"Erik, you fell off the face of the earth for three days! I thought something happened to you! After all, all those drunk kids…I thought you might've gotten hit by a car or something. I was ready to start looking into hospitals, morgues—"

"Well, that's a bit morbid," he answered mildly. "And it was two days. And I didn't fall off the face of the earth at all."

"Really?" She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Where were you then?"

"Here," he told her simply. At her disbelieving expression, he added, "Well, not _here_ here. In my room. Downstairs."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why would you hang out at a school over the weekend?"

"Because it's the only place where I can hide." Even to him, the response sounded cowardly, but she was the one that demanded honesty…

"Hide? Erik, you didn't need to hide! We could've…" She trailed off as he smiled indulgently.

"Christine, I've been doing this for eighteen years. People take one look at me and insults fly out of their mouths. It's like some mass epidemic or something, always has been. Sometimes hiding is the only way to find peace." _And dancing_, he added silently. That had been pretty peaceful in itself, but she didn't really need to know that.

She sighed, sweeping brown curls off of her forehead impatiently. "Erik—"

"Class, find your seats!" Mr. Hall called, trooping into the room with a coffee cup balanced on his books. Christine frowned, torn. Finally, she pointed a finger at Erik and hissed, "We are going to continue this. Very soon."

"I look forward to it." He gave a tiny bow, teasing in the most gently manner possible. She couldn't help but smile.

The rest of the day seemed to take forever. All Christine could think about was that smile and the promise of bringing it to his face again fourth hour. She found focusing impossible. Almost as impossible as the thought of facing—

Meg and Raoul were sitting at the usual lunch table, murmuring and giggling at each other. Christine wanted nothing more than to turn around and go right back out of those doors, maybe to eat in the hall or something. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to the table and sat across from them.

"Christine!" Raoul sounded pleasantly surprised. "How are you this fine Monday morning?"

"Terrible," she answered dully. "Thanks for asking."

Meg frowned at her and Christine frowned right back. She hadn't spoken to the blond girl all weekend (a rather impressive feat when the object of your cold shoulder was your roommate) and she wasn't sure she wanted to start talking again now.

It seemed that her friend wasn't going to give her an option, however. Meg leaned across the length of the table and grabbed Christine in a fierce, awkward hug.

"I'm sorry I was such an ass on Friday," she apologized. "I shouldn't have been such…I should've given him a chance."

Christine's icy heart melted a little. She patted the other girl's back.

"Yeah, you should've." She turned her eyes to Raoul, who was staring up at the ceiling with a look of determination on his handsome face. "And you? Do you have something to say?"

He sighed. "I'm…sorry too. I was drinking and…well, I get bad sometimes. I'm sorry."

"Good, you should be." Christine nodded resolutely. "And now, to prove that you really are sorry, you will do one last thing for me."

"What's that?" Meg asked.

"Apologize to Erik after school," Christine told them both firmly. "We are going to make it up to him."

"_What_?" Raoul asked, acting as if he hadn't quite heard what she'd said.

"Apologize or forget about talking to me ever again," she answered icily. "And no amount of memories will change that decision, Raoul, so don't even try it."

He grimaced down at the table. "All right, fine. Right after school?"

"As soon as that last bell rings. We'll meet over by your locker."

"And what if Shad—Erik doesn't show?"

"I'll make sure he does," she told him. "Don't worry, he'll be there to accept your apology."

"Or to throw sharp objects at me," he muttered.

"You'd deserve it," Christine told him haughtily. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go down to class early and tell him about this. Don't be late, Raoul."

She could hear him grumbling behind her, followed by an interesting-sounding smacking noise that was probably the sound of Meg's hand against the back of his head. Fun as that sounded, Christine didn't allow herself to turn around; she had to get to Erik and tell him all about this afternoon's plans.

A/N: World's shortest chapter ever! –cackles manically- I think I'll just draw this out for a thousand chapters or so.

Review Replies:

ENTR'ACTE- Aw, you don't like DC? Aww…well, that's okay. –grins-

erik'sangel527- And I thank you for all your thanks. –grins- (doing a lot of grinnin' tonight, it seems…)

Aki T- Another shorty, don't kill me. And the rating will go up, soon. I can't really work with a PG rating for long….

Totschafe- Ah! Ah! Not the plastic flamingo! –updates madly-

Alixy- I'm glad you like how my brain works, 'cause I can't seem to fix it. –laughs- And I'm kinda glad I have no life too…otherwise, how would I have so many reviews?


	15. Trembly Feelings

Disclaimer: Me? Own this niftyness? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"They're going to _what?_" Erik demanded. He was seated at his piano, fingers pacing the keys at such restless speeds that Christine had long since stopped trying to follow them. She gave him a patient smile.

"Apologize, Erik. You know—"

"No, I don't know," he interrupted. "I fail to remember apology, Christine, save for my own. Why would they do that?"

"Well…" She hesitated. Would he view this, too, as an act of pity?

"You pressed them into it." It wasn't an accusation, simply a stated fact. Under his hood, he was smiling thinly. "Well, I shouldn't have expected anything less, I suppose…all right, I'll accept their apology. I won't by any means _relax_, but I'll try to be forgiving." Quietly, he added, "I'm not a total monster…"

Her big brown eyes widened. "I never called you a monster, Erik."

"_You_ haven't." Shaking his head, he seemed to come out of a little trance. His hands halted in their constant, frenzied pattern across the piano keys. "Was Madame ready for me?"

"She said you could come up at any time," Christine confirmed. He nodded to himself and got up.

"Good. I need to get some of this energy out."

_What about me?_ Christine wanted to cry. _Get it out on me!_

_What am I thinking?_

He was already at the door. "Coming?"

"Just about," she muttered. He lifted an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Frustrated with herself for having such useless thoughts, Christine brushed past him. Or tried to; his fingers curled around her thin wrist, stopping her progress. She glanced back.

"Yes?"

He was smiling that patented little smile again, half shy, half sexy. What was she supposed to say to that?

"Thank you," he whispered. "For at least trying." Feather light, he touched his lips to the inside of her hand. A shiver rushed through her.

"Anytime," she managed, resisting the urge to jump him right there. _Class, class, have to get to class…_

Still holding her hand, fingers threaded comfortably with hers, he led her up the stairs. She grinned, unrestrained.

Meg seemed puzzled by this. "What's so funny?" she asked when Christine settled next to her. "You're smiling."

"I'm not allowed to smile?"

"You're happy," Meg continued, disbelieving.

"I can't be happy?"

"Not since Friday, it seemed."

Christine shrugged, sobering a little. "Things change."

"Is this because Raoul and I are going to apologize?"

Was it easier to lie or to explain the torrent of emotion tearing through her at inhuman speeds? "Yes."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Little Miss Sunday School, be nice to the animals, hug some trees…the weirdest things make you happy."

"I've never hugged a tree in my life," Christine fired back, enjoying the banter in spite of herself.

"Ladies, can we have some quiet please?" Madame Giry asked, looking annoyed. Meg smirked.

"Sorry. We'll be good."

Christine elbowed her, holding back a giggle. She saw Erik smile faintly up at her and her body warmed all over. She waved.

"Miss Daaè, if you'd be so kind as to pay some semblance of attention," Madame sighed.

"Sorry."

A/N: Shorter than short! –laughs- I've got another shorter one, then a longer one almost finished for you; should be posted tonight or tomorrow morning.

Review Replies:

Rowin- Yes, Erik's pop's an ass. As for his appearance, I'll go into detail with that in a later chapter. You'll just have to wait till then. –beams-

SALLYMAETHEHICK- Woah, interesting name. I'm perfectly aware that Christine's Swedish, but I can't picture anyone other than Emmy Rossum in the role. It's a problem, I know, but it's how my brain works. Sorry.

Awoman- Wow, you read it all in one sitting? Rock on! You get an extra large cookie for putting up with me like that.

Christine- Look! More! Enjoy.

Alixy- Ah, well, this is a dilemma. You see, if I restrain myself too much, the story won't get told very well. My plot (yes, I actually have a plot coming, it's just on the horizon…really!) is at least PG-13 level. I highly doubt it will get sexual, if that helps, as I suck at writing lemons.

MadameAngel- Is it really your favorite? Aw, that makes me feel so good.

erik'sangel527- lol, me? Update frequently? –grins-

Totschafe- Wait, woah, you're going to flamingo me if I update? –nervous twitch- I think I'll wear a hard hat…


	16. Apology Accepted and a Dinner Invite?

Disclaimer: Me? Own this -fill in own happy adjective? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

_Locker twenty-six. This is it._

The thought had crossed his mind a total of twelve times, like a horribly cracked CD. Unable to stop the voice in his head, he gave up and simply listened.

_Where are they?_

What if they'd forgotten? What if they ditched out? This could all be some stupid jock prank, a test to see how long he'd stand here, taking the stares the little freshmen were sending his way.

_What the hell am I doing here? I have to get out of the open…_

"Erik!"

Christine was pushing her way bodily through the crowd, tugging Madame Giry's daughter along by the hand. A very surly-looking Raoul trailed behind them, shooting nasty looks any sniggering teammates he could find.

"Hi," Christine breathed, reaching him and letting go of Meg's hand in favor of his own. He smiled nervously.

"Hey. How was French?"

"Hell," she answered cheerfully. "How are you?"

"Do you want the truth or the carefully constructed lie?"

She laughed. "Oh, it isn't that bad."

"Not if sports equipment is kept in the gym, it isn't." Time for pleasantries was over. It was time for business. He stared with hard eyes at Raoul, who stared right back.

"Do you want to start some—I mean…" He gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry for throwing that football at you."

Christine kicked his ankle. "And…"

"And for being an all-around ass," he ground out thickly.

"I'm sorry too," Meg jumped in, sounding much more sincere. "I was a bit drunk and got swept away. You totally didn't deserve it."

Erik nodded at her. "Thanks. I appreciate the…sympathy."

"What about me?" Raoul demanded. "Does my sympathy count for nothing?"

"Yes," Erik answered simply. Christine dug her elbow into his side, a practice that she'd been using a lot lately on just about everyone.

"He appreciates it," she assured the enraged-Raoul, ignoring Erik's kicked-puppy pout.

"Does he?" Raoul's fists balled; he visibly forced himself to relax. "Look, man, to prove my true sincerity, how about doing something?"

Erik frowned. "Like what?"

"Like dinner. Tonight."

Erik's lips curled in a smirk. "I don't swing that way, laddie. Nice try."

Raoul's features contorted as he battled with himself. Finally, he gave a forced-looking smile. "I meant the four of us. My treat. Do you like Chinese?"

"Sure." Erik's smirk softened slightly. Christine squeezed his hand.

"All right, we'll be by around six," Raoul told him grudgingly. "Be ready, will you? I've got homework."

"Oh, right," Erik muttered. "Wouldn't want that precious GPA to drop on my account…"

"Do you need a ride home?" Raoul asked the girls, ignoring Erik's comment.

Meg nodded, but Christine said, "No, I think I'm okay."

He shrugged. "Okay. I'll see you tonight."

As soon as the two were out of sight, Erik seemed to deflate. He collapsed against the lockers, closing his eyes and letting out his breath slowly.

"I don't like this," he told Christine. "It's…Raoul's not the forgive-forget type. He's going to plan something."

"There's no time for him to plan anything," she assured him. "Don't be so paranoid. Besides, I'll be there and so will Meg. We'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"If he wants to try something, you two won't be able to stop him," he muttered wearily. She smiled.

"Erik, relax. The world is _not_ out to get you. Hey, who knows? Maybe you two will become friends and you'll laugh about this at reunions and stuff."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, both of them were laughing.

A/N: Even shorter! Wow, I'm getting good at tiny updates.

Review Replies:

Awoman- Um…wow. That's kinda creepy, the connection. I don't think I've ever met this boy. As for not wanting a cookie...aww…I didn't poison them.

Aki T-blinks- I did? Woah, how did I manage that? –hugs you- So sorry, I really didn't mean to! And I'm sorry for the shortness, that's how I am. Short chapters to draw out the story and drive everyone absolutely crazy. The real plot hasn't even started yet, how scary is that?


	17. Chinese Food and Alleyways

Disclaimer: Me? Own this -think of own chipper adjective? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"Stop fidgeting," Christine murmured. She was nestled next to Erik in a booth, facing Meg and a menu. Behind the menu was Raoul, doing his best Statue Man impersonation.

"I can't help it," Erik murmured back, moving his fingers against the tabletop. "It's a reflex."

She covered his hand with her own. "You look nervous. Calm down, take in some air. Have a drink of water or something."

"I _am_ nervous." His leg drummed against the floor, rubbing against her thigh; she drew in a breath and gripped his fingers more tightly.

"Are you okay?" Meg asked, directing the question at Christine.

"Fine. Why?" both she and Erik said together.

"Creepy," Meg comments with a lift of her eyebrows. "Christine, your leg just sort of shot out and nailed me in the shin. Regularity though that is, I thought I'd ask."

Erik chuckled. Meg's eyes widened as if she hadn't thought him capable of laughter, then giggled as well. Raoul brought his menu up to better conceal his face.

"So, Erik….what's up?" Meg asked, clearly ready to attempt a full conversation. He shrugged, brushing his shoulder accidentally against Christine's. She bit her tongue.

_Control, Chrissy, control…you can do it…just another hour or two, come on…you can do it—_

_The hell I can._

Christine fumbled across the table and grabbed Meg's sleeve. "Bathroom," she rasped, pulling the other girl bodily out of the booth.

"What's your hurry?" Meg asked as they sped across the restaurant. "Did you spring a leak or something?"

"_No_." Shoving her friend into the restroom, Christine cried, "I think I'm going insane!"

"Insane…how? Like, talking to the monkeys in your head insane?"

"No!" Christine shouted. "Like there's something in my head that just won't shut up and—"

"So…it is about you talking to the voices in your head," Meg teased.

"No! I'm serious, Meg! I'm sick or something!"

"Fine, fine. Symptoms?"

"Head voices, nausea, clammy palms—," Christine listed, ticking each off on her fingers.

"Stop." Meg lifted a hand with the command, giggling to herself. "You are so extremely dense sometimes, my friend."

Christine scowled. "Stop teasing me, Meg, this is—"

"Serious, yeah, I know. It's called lust, hon. You've got a terrible case, by the sound of it."

Heart plummeting, Christine moaned, "That's just what I was afraid of."

"Oh, it's perfectly normal. I deal with it at least once a week." Meg waggled her eyebrows. Christine closed her eyes.

"I hate my life."

"Christine, it isn't a big deal!" Meg exclaimed.

"It isn't?" she replied blankly.

"He's a very hot young man!"

"He is?" Christine's left eye twitched.

"Absolutely! And he's a fantastic football player, so it's only natural—"

"Ew!" Christine cried, catching on to her friend's thought process at last. "Not _him_, you sick freak! I meant Erik! Erik's the one making me all sick inside!"

Meg's smile dripped away like the egg drop soup she'd been so messily consuming only three minutes ago. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah, I did. Are you completely…you spaz! First you befriend the town pariah, which I could have dealt with. But then you go and fall in love with him!"

"Woah, woah, _love_? Who said anything about _love_?" Christine demanded. "Who loves in high school?"

Meg smirked. "You know, denial is the first stage of healing."

"_Healing_?" Christine coughed. "What healing is this that you speak of?"

Meg shook her head. "Okay, relax. Breathe. Hell, take your own advice and go find some water to gulp down."

"What am I supposed to do about Erik?" Christine asked helplessly. "You're supposed to give me advice of your own, not reuse what I told…Erik. Oh, _damn it_."

"What? What?"

"I left him with Raoul! We left him with Raoul!" Christine babbled, horrified. "Oh, _damn it, damn it, damn it!_"

"Relax! Christine!" Meg grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "What is the big deal? It's just Raoul."

"Yeah, Raoul. He with the major grudge from hell."

* * *

Erik was beyond nervous. Both legs were spasming madly under the table, both hands were playing a phantom keyboard and he hummed the quickest tune he possibly could.

Raoul smacked his menu against the table, meeting the other boy's eyes to the best of his abilities. "Would you calm down?"

"Sorry, am I throwing off your preening or something?" Erik smirked. Inside, he knew that this was not intelligent; mocking the football player would only get him into trouble. Still, he couldn't seem to stop himself. Sarcasm was the only thing protecting him these days.

"Yeah, that's exactly what you're doing," Raoul joked back unexpectedly. "You might want to stop or I won't even look like myself tomorrow in school."

Erik blinked. "You…actually have a sense of humor?"

"Do you?" Raoul's smirk rivaled the other boy's.

"Of course."

"Really? Well…you won't mind if we test that, will you?"

The back of Erik's neck tingled slightly. "Test how?"

The jock smiled secretively. "Follow me."

He got up and jerked his head toward the door. Erik didn't move.

"What about the girls?" he asked uncertainly.

"Oh, they'll be fine for a couple of minutes," Raoul told him with amusement. "Come on. Unless, of course, you're scared."

"Scared of you?" Erik glowered. "You don't have a snowball's chance in Hell of getting me to admit to that."

"Is it true?" Raoul challenged. When Erik failed once again to answer, the young man shrugged. "Fine. I won't push you into something that frightens you…"

"Oh shut up and lead the way," Erik snapped, springing up from the table. "And make it fast; I don't want Christine to think I left her or something."

Grinning, Raoul moved stealthily through the building to a secluded back door and slipped out. Feeling massively uncomfortable by the entire situation, Erik followed.

"What are we doing out here?" he asked, frowning at the alley and the piles of trash. "Raoul…"

"Testing your sense of humor," the jock replied cheerily, reaching out and grabbing Erik by the collar of his jacket. "Tell me, Erik, do you enjoy the dark and dank as much as your appearance would suggest?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Oh, you'll be begging for something." His features took a shocking turn for the angry as he shoved the thin boy hard against the wall. "You did something to Christine, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Erik demanded, struggling to break Raoul's hold. "Let go of me!"

"You drugged her, is that it? Or hypnotized her? Something really screwed up. To get her to hang around with you. Why else would she spend so much time with such a freak?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Erik insisted. "Put me down, Raoul. I'm not kidding."

"I couldn't give a shit," Raoul sneered, releasing Erik's jacket with one hand long enough to haul back and punch him in the face. The thin boy reeled backward, smacking his head on the brick hard enough to make him see stars.

Groaning, he tried to throw up a hand to protect himself, but Raoul worked past his block instantly. Again he hit him; this time, Erik dropped to the ground, grimacing at the blood that trickled down his face. _Like I don't have enough problems in that area already…_

A kick in the ribs. Another punch. Erik closed his eyes, resigning himself to his fate: he would either die right here or end up being found by some idiot policeman in the morning who would pull back his hood and cuff him for the hell of it.

_Fantastic. I knew I should never have believed this jackass…_

"Erik!" Christine screamed, rushing to his side. She shoved past a surprised-looking Raoul and leaned down, lightly caressing his face. Erik jerked away from her curious fingers, curling into a ball and whimpering quietly.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" she screamed at Raoul, getting up and pushing him. "Huh? What did you think you could gain from this?"

He yanked back. "Christine, he's a freak. A dangerous freak. You're going to figure that out some day, and I'm going to be here when you do. And I'll be forgiving. Because, unlike some people, I don't hold a grudge."

"Don't you?" she cried, bending down beside Erik again. "What the hell was this, if not a grudge?"

Raoul shook his head. "Whatever. Fine. Hang out with him. When you realize what a…_freak_ he is, I'll be waiting. Come on, Meg."

The blond stepped away from him. "I think you'll be riding home alone tonight, Raoul," she said coolly and Christine felt a burst of warmth for her friend.

"Whatever," the football player repeated, shaking his head once again and walking away. Meg watched him go, then said quietly, "I'm going to go call my mom for a ride, okay?"

Christine nodded, turning her attention back to Erik. "Are you all right?" she asked gently.

He made a strange little noise. It took her a moment, but she recognized it all the same.

"Are you…are you _laughing_?" she asked, incredulous.

He was, hard as it was to believe. He was lying there, coiled in a little ball, giggling like a madman. For a moment, Christine couldn't figure out what to do. Then instinct took over and her fingers were running oh-so gently across his cheek, his nose, his lips…they lingered there on the softness, feeling the faint bruising that Raoul's fists had left. His giggles ceased and she felt his breath quicken against her fingertips.

Suddenly, he yanked away. "Stop that," he told her hoarsely. "Please. Don't touch me, Christine. Trust me, you don't want to go there."

"I don't?" She stared at him as he sat up. "Why not, Erik?"

"Because…look, it's complicated. Let's just say that I don't want to lose you."

"Lose me? Erik, what are you—"

"Look, I don't want to talk about it," he snapped. "I just want to go home and get some ice, all right?"

Right on cue, Meg poked her head into the alley. "Mom's here, guys."

"Yeah? Good." Erik climbed to his feet, swaying slightly. Christine got up as well and pulled one of his arms over her shoulders, working as a crutch to keep him balanced.

"What happened?" Mrs. Giry demanded. "Erik, are you all right?"

"I've been better," he answered. "But I think I'll be okay after a little bit of rest."

The teens piled into the old Sedan in silence, one that reigned until they pulled up in front of Erik's house.

He gave a quiet curse. "Shit…he's here."

"Who?" Christine asked worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered instantly, almost as a reflex. "Forget it, it isn't important. Listen, thanks for a really…memorable night. I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

"Yeah. Erik?"

He turned back, frowning. "What?"

"I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean much—"  
"It wasn't your fault." He gave the ghost of a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night." Christine felt a bit stupid saying what she did, but what else was there? 'I'm sorry' just wouldn't cut it any more.

Meg glanced back at her as she watched Erik move silently up the driveway. "Why would Raoul do something like that?" she asked.

Christine slowly shook her head. "Jealousy?" she guessed. "I don't understand it. He's really changed since our childhood…"

A/N: Kay, that was a bit longer, hope you all don't mind. The plot is most definitely on its way, no worries. I'm just really slow on this sort of thing. –quirky expression-

Review Replies:

SmileVampy- lol, after this one, what do you think?

Maeve Of the Nile- You ask, I offer.

erik'sangel527- I love my Erik too. I wish he were real…-wishes on nearest star-

flamingice- Yeah, I know they're OOC. That was sort of on purpose; AU fic, you know, they can't be perfectly in character and still be normal teens.

Devilishly Pure- I know, I wanted to cry too! Poor Erik…

MadameAngel- lol, I'm instilling rambles now? Coolyness!

Chibi Hime- Nice? My Raoul, nice? –laughs- That's a good one. –pause- Wow, he got kind of mean, didn't he?

Totschafe- Ooh, I get cookies now! All right!

Alixy- Yeah, you'll see in a few chapters. It'll mostly be for curses and violence and drama and such. Some make-out sessions, but you won't have to worry much. And that's all I'm tellin'. –zips mouth shut-

EmailyGirl- Depends on your definition of 'disastrous'. –grins-

Rowin- Here ya go, a longer chapter.

dark-shade-soul- Another fan! I love fans…never thought I'd have any. –tear-

I-LUV-ILC- I guess not just yet, but I plan on some fluff, never fear.

Angel-of-Music1331- lol, it's a-comin', hold your horses.

AFireInside-xx- Um…well, I don't know about surgery…-amused expression- Although that kind of would fix his problems, wouldn't it?

Aki T- Yeah, well, procrastinator, that's me. –grins-

ENTR'ACTE- I usually update two or three times a day. Yes, I'm that sad. –sigh- A support group would be nice…


	18. An Accident and A Memory Best Left Forgo...

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"Erik? Erik are you here?" Christine called down the stairs. She hadn't seen the lanky shadow of a teen all day and it was beginning to make her a bit nervous.

_You'd think you'd be used to his disappearing acts by now_, she scolded herself. _After all, it seems to be what he does best…_

Still, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of panic on his behalf.

"Christine?" His voice floated up to her like an angel; she closed her eyes in complete relief.

"Erik! Is it all right if I come down?"

"Why not?" Was it her imagination, or did his voice sound a little rigid?

She raced down to him and before he could say a word, her arms were around him. He gave a tiny sigh, returning her fierce hug almost tiredly.

"Hey," he said quietly. "How did Geometry go?"

"Horribly," she murmured. "Where were you?"

"At home, for once." He didn't sound happy about it. She pulled back and looked up at him.

"What's wrong?"

"It isn't important." This was getting to be a mantra for him. Mentally, he screamed to her a plea: _Help me! Help me! Don't let him touch me again!_ But what could she really do? How could she, one girl, stop a grown man from lashing out time and time again…when she couldn't even stop one stupid jock from pounding on him? And what kind of man was he, that he couldn't even stop these people from laying hands on him?

"Erik, talk to me," she pleaded, hands curling against his sweatshirt and for just a moment, he was struck with the urge to yank back his hood and reveal to her what he'd kept hidden from the world for so long…

_No. She'll leave forever._

"It isn't important," he repeated softly. She shook her head.

"It _is_ important…it's always important…when it's you." The words seemed to tumble from her lips before she could stop them. His eyes widened. Her face was moving closer, closer…

"Christine? Mom—Madame is asking for Erik. Christine, are you down there?" Meg's voice echoed off the walls, bouncing around irritatingly. Christine gave a moan of annoyance, pressing her face against Erik's chest and gripping him all the more tightly.

"I hate her sometimes," she murmured darkly. He chuckled.

"Yeah, I think we all do. Come on; don't want to keep your landlady waiting."

Christine reluctantly followed him, ignoring the longing she felt to just slam that door shut and grab Erik and crush his mouth with her own. _Why does Fate hate me so much? Can't I just get a moment to myself with him?_

"Christine, if you're down there, hurry the hell up. Mom's really starting to freak out."

She could see Meg at the top of the stairs, hovering as if she were afraid of entering past the gateway to what so much of the student body would probably view as Hell if they knew of its existence. The small blond girl was bobbing on her heels, acting like a lost little bird.

"What's the problem?" she called up to her friend. Meg gasped.

"Oh, good, there you are. Christine, listen, there's been an accident…look, this really doesn't look good."

"An accident?" _Maybe we'll get lucky and Carlotta will have broken her leg or something…_ "What kind of accident?"

"The kind where a boy is beaten to a pulp and sent to the hospital. Hurry up, hurry up! Is Erik with you?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Why does Madame want to see me?"

"Because you…oh, will you hurry up? Damn, you guys are slow! Hurry the hell up!"

Rolling her eyes, Christine seized the young man's hand and raced up the remainder of the steps. "Fast enough for you?" she demanded of Meg, who shook her head.

"Not nearly. Come on, Mom's got the cops waiting."

"Cops?" Christine stopped short. "Why cops?"

"Why…weren't you listening? Geez, Christine, don't you ever pay attention?" Meg shrilled. Erik's mouth was beginning to tighten again.

"Meg, what happened?" he asked slowly, as if he doubted her ability to comprehend the human language.

"Meg, do you have them? Ah, good." Madame Giry had appeared next to her daughter, looking decidedly more disheveled than usual. Her hair was sticking up all over the place and her eyes looked skeptical and edgy. Christine had never seen her like this.

"Come on," the woman continued. "The police are waiting to question you, Erik."

"Question me?" he repeated, frowning. "What for?"

"You tell us," an unfamiliar woman cut in. She stared coldly at him. "Where exactly we you last night, young man?"

"I was at home," he answered calmly. Christine felt the tremor run through his hand even as he kept it out of his tone. She pressed closer to him.

"All night?" the male police officer pushed. Erik closed his eyes.

"No. I was with Christine and Meg and this guy Raoul for dinner."

"And these two can verify this?" the man continued.

"Yes."

The woman stepped closer. "Those are some pretty ugly bruises you've got there, son. Mind telling me where they came from?"

He licked his lips. "Raoul and I…had a disagreement."

"What sort of disagreement?"

"The kind where Raoul jumps Erik and beats the shit out of him," Meg snapped. "Why does it matter?"

"And were you angry after this took place?" the woman asked, acting as though Meg had never spoken. "Angry enough to maybe go out and find a target for yourself?"

"What? No!" Erik shook his head emphatically. "Why would I?"

"What time exactly did you get home, Erik?"

"We dropped him off at about seven thirty," Madame Giry answered for him. The woman made a note on a pad of paper.

"And did you leave the house again at any time between that time and this morning?"

Erik swallowed. "…yes. Once. Around about ten."

The man looked sharply at him. "What reason would you have for this?"

"Well, I had to get out of the house." The moment the words escaped, Erik wished he could steal them back. This was the last thing he wanted to get into.

Christine's eyes focused more intently on him. "Erik?"

"Why did you have to get out?" The woman stared at him, her eyes acting as twin lasers. He shifted.

"No reason…"

"Erik," Christine repeated more forcefully.

He sighed. "All right, fine. My father was home, all right? And my father doesn't…really get along with me."

"Why not?" the man wanted to know.

"Why not? Because the man loves his booze, okay?" Frustrated, Erik sank down in the nearest chair and massaged his face with both hands.

The female officer's expression changed from pure suspicion to suspicious sympathy. "Erik, does your father…touch you?"

"He beats me senseless, yeah." It was out. He had given up. Erik hung his head, allowing the memory of the previous night to come rushing back.

_He slipped in through the back door, hoping that he could silence his footsteps enough to sneak downstairs. If he could just get down there…_

"_Where've you been?" his father growled._

_He swallowed. "Out. With…friends."_

_The man laughed, a rough, callous sound that made Erik want to cry. "Friends?" he slurred. "You ain't got no friends, you stupid boy. Who'd be friends with a freak like you?"_

_Erik stared at the floor, determined not to rise to the bait. One step out of line and it would come, the thrashing that he almost believed he deserved._

"_Wha's a-matter, Erik? Don' wanna admit your old man's right?" the man sneered. "That you're a freak? A reject? A good-for-nothing, ugly mutation? A mistake." He took another swig of beer and got unsteadily out of his chair._

_Erik took a step back. "You're right, sir," he said quietly, hoping in vain that he could diffuse the man's temper before it really flared. _

_Too late. "You're mockin' me!" his father roared, swinging the bottle and catching his son on the chin. Erik stumbled, catching himself on a coffee table._

"_Sorry!" he cried. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking!"_

"_Sorry don' cut it, you sorry little bastard!" Another swing of the bottle. Suddenly Erik was on the floor with no memory of getting there. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was somewhere else._

"_What are you closing your damn eyes for, boy?" the man yelled. "Huh? You too good to look at your old man? Are you ashamed to see me?"_

Yes! _Erik wanted to scream. _Yes, I'm ashamed! Yes, yes, yes!

"_No!" he cried, trying to stand. "Of course not, Dad, no!"_

"_Yeah, you are! Useless waste of space!" He kicked Erik hard with a work-boot. The boy curled up for the second time that night, wishing he could escape as the shoe hit him again, in the chest, the stomach, the groin. _

Breathe,_ he told himself. _Breathe. It'll be over soon, he'll lose interest, he'll pass out, he'll die…something, anything, God, please…

"_Stupid piece of shit!" the man bellowed, bringing the glass bottle down on his head again. "Stupid, useless, mutated, disfigured—"_

Christine!_ he screamed in his mind. _Christine, help me! Where are you? Where are you?

Not here, _he thought back to himself. _Not here, thank God. _Never in a million years would he wish this Hell upon her. Not upon that sweet smile, those innocent brown eyes, that wonderful laugh. _

_Curling up further, he lost himself in the image of Christine Daaè. Lost himself and waited for the pain to stop._

A/N: Wow, okay, that one wasn't fun to write. Just so you know. I'm…kind of upset now. But it had to be done. And here comes the plot train, folks! About time, eh?

Review Replies:

Totschafe- Ah, cookies, good. That helps. Thanks. –smiles-

Christie- Ooh, a glomp! Those are so much fun…

erik'sangel527- Whee, a support group! –clears throat and stands up- I am Fufu and I am an E/C-aholic. ….would've been more fun if I didn't write that just after this chapter. –winces- Sorry.

SmileVampy- Kiss his boo-boos? Be my guest, my dear. There are a lot of them, so be sure to share with the other fangirls.

EmailyGirl- Rest assured, the temper will be rising.

I-LUV-ILC- Fluff is good, isn't it?

Aki T- lol, yeah a –gasp- plot! What a new thing for me!

PotOFan- Your wish, my command.


	19. Interrogation

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

Erik finished his story and waited. If he knew Christine, she would—

-fling her arms around him, gripping him so tightly that he almost couldn't breathe. _Yep, right again. This girl is like a wonderful book…_

"Erik, why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, sounding horrified.

He shrugged. "Didn't want to bother you."

"Oh, you have _got_ to be screwing with me!" she cried shrilly. "Didn't want to _bother _me? I'm your _friend_, Erik; little matters of bodily harm are of a rather high level of concern for me!"

Another shrug. This was exactly what he's been hoping to avoid.

"Son, how long has this been going on?" the male cop asked seriously.

"As long as I can remember," Erik admitted.

"And when were you planning on telling somebody about it?"

"Never," Erik snapped. "Okay? Never."

The woman frowned. "Why not?"

"Because I deserved it," he snapped. "I _always_ deserve it, all right?"

Christine's hands grasped his shoulders. "Why would you say that?"

"Because…look, never mind, all right?" He frowned. "It isn't—"

"Erik, I swear to God, if you say 'it isn't important' one more time—"

"Hey, can we refrain from threats until after I've questioned the suspect, please?" the woman asked, making frantic notes on her pad of paper. Christine glanced at her sharply.

"Suspect? Are you kidding? He just told you—"

"He told me that his father beat him and that he did indeed leave the house last night around the time Joseph Buquet was pounded into a coma. That doesn't do much to attest to innocence, does it?" The woman stared Christine down with an annoyingly superior expression.

"It's fine," Erik muttered. "Ask away, I have nothing to hide."

"You don't? That's lovely. Where were you last night? Exactly."

"I was walking near the park," he answered truthfully, trying to ignore the gentle stroke of Christine's fingers against the back of his neck for fear that he'd lose his grip on sanity. "I took a lap or two around near the beach, by the playground, then went home. I was out for probably an hour or so."

The male cop snorted and shook his head. Christine frowned.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head again. "That's a pretty bad story your boyfriend's giving us."

"Bad how?" she pressed, ignoring the way Erik jerked at the term 'boyfriend'.

The woman smirked. "Why don't you leave us alone for a few minutes, Miss? It's difficult to interrogate someone with his girl standing by."

"That's exactly what you're doing!" Christine argued. "Interrogating him! Hasn't he been through enough?"

"Joseph Buquet was found in the park, on the beach, bleeding from a dozen wounds, his eyes swollen shut. He looked like they'd stuck him in a box and beat the crap out of said box with baseball bats. He's currently in intensive care. Has he been through enough?" The woman's eyes were bulging unhealthily. Her partner restrained her with a commanding hand.

"Trish," he murmured. "Maybe we should talk to the chief about taking you off this case…"

"My nephew was beaten nearly to death!" she shrilled. "I am going to find out who did it!"

Erik lowered his eyes. This was the last thing he needed, to hear the rantings of a woman whose loved one had just been almost killed.

"Perhaps it would be best for you and Meg to go wait in the hall," Madame Giry was telling Christine tactfully. "Better yet, go get some ice cream or something. I'll come and fetch you when this is all over, all right?"

Christine looked like she desperately wanted to argue, but something in Madame's eyes left no room for dispute. Grudgingly, she nodded, gave Erik's hand one last comforting squeeze, and left with Meg.

"Now, Erik, if you don't mind," the male officer said, seating himself and positioning his own notepad. "Would you start from the beginning?"

A/N: Oh, God I hate this chapter. So sorry. I don't update all day and when I do, it's a craptastic two-pager. –hangs head in shame- I'll try to do better tomorrow.

Review Replies:

musicgirl141- Ah, not a devoted fan, I see. Well, this chapter probably won't do much to win you over; I'll just have to try harder next time.

Maeve Of the Nile- Falling in love with a fictional character? Would you like to join our little support group? –grins-

PotOFan- Good questions. Unfortunately, I am not allowed to disclose such information at this time. Please call back later. –beep-

Nade-Naberrie- Wow, a new person. Hi! –waves madly- Yeah, I know I made Raoul a bit too mean. I didn't originally intend to massacre his character like that, it just sort of…happened.

AFireInside-xx-offers the Erik- Enjoy.

La Foamy- Ah, mush. Don't we all love it so? –evil grin- Oh, it's coming. FEAR THE MUSH!...I mean…

Christie- SUGAR! –cheery expression- I love chocolate and happy reviews, thanks for both!

SALLYMAETHEHICK- Yes, well, sanity has never been my strongest of points. –embarrassed expression-

Angel-of-Music1331- Oh, sorry! I'll try to stick that in my disclaimer next time…

Maglenan Princess- All these people seem to know Erik-like people. That's kind of weird.

ENTR'ACTE- I'm sorry! I'm fine; just had a mite of writer's block. As you can see from this hellish addition…-sigh- I'll try to do better tomorrow, to feed your addiction.

SmileVampy- Yeah, it is a horrible thing. I can't understand how it hasn't been eradicated yet…

Chibi Hime- I'll explain eventually, no worries.

Awoman-sleepily updates-

Phantom of the Past- An, another enthusiast! Welcome to the support—er, club. Cookie?

Christine-hugs Erik plushie-

erik'sangel527- Aww…-blushes modestly- I don't this I'm the best…

Sorry again about this one, guys, it really sucks. I'll try to do better next time!


	20. Revelations

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

A/N: Just a little note for y'all: Buquet isn't exactly dead. He's in intensive care, remember? This _is_ high school, after all; a murder is, while not impossible, a bit of a stretch. …not that this whole story isn't a bit of a stretch. Woah, rambling, sorry. On with the chap!

Christine was pacing. Back and forth she went, wearing a charming indentation into the tile of the choir hallway.

"Come on, how long can one freakin' interrogation take?" she growled, impatiently shoving a long strand of dark hair off of her forehead. "Damn it!" she added, simply because she could.

Meg, who was seated on the ledge near the chain of windows, lifted her head out of her hands just long enough to throw a sharp glare and a small ruler at her friend. "You aren't helping, you know," she snarled back.

Injured and annoyed, Christine rubbed her head where the ruler had hit and scowled more deeply.

"You are really bad at being sympathetic," she complained.

"Well, maybe if you'd just sit down and shut up for a minute…"

The door to the choir room opened, cutting off Meg's irritated words. Christine whirled around and nearly smacked into a very tired-looking Madame Giry.

"What's going on?" the teen demanded, ignoring the way her teacher winced at the sudden burst of sound. "Why are they talking to Erik? Why would they think he had anything to do with this?"

Madame rubbed her temples. "Christine, the officers got an anonymous tip this morning that Erik was seen at the beach. What else were they supposed to think?"

"Do they…they don't think he…" Christine was having trouble stringing a coherent sentence together. Madame lightly patted her arm.

"He's not off the hook yet, but they aren't going to haul him in in handcuffs either. Calm down…did you take my advice and have some sugar?"

Meg jerked her head out of her hands again. "_Some_ sugar?" she repeated in a voice dangerously void of sanity. "_Some_! Mom…she consumed three cups of coffee! Three! And a doughnut!"

Madame twitched visibly. "Christine, we were only in there for twenty minutes. When did you find _time_ to drink three cups of pure caffeine? More importantly, what possessed you to?"

Christine resumed her frantic pacing. "I think better with caffeine in me," she explained, sounding more than a little bit like she'd gone round the bend. "And if I don't think about this…well, my head will probably explode and that's not a sight anyone wants to see. It was either coffee or call a janitor with a large bucket and a mop."

"How…delightful." Madame sighed. "Anyway, they've finished with Erik for the moment. You can go down to see him, if you like; he's down in his room again."

Christine blew past her as soon as the sentence was complete. Meg shook her head in amazement.

"The girl is a _lunatic_," she muttered.

"I am not!" Christine yelled back even as she flew through the choir room and down the stairs. Without bothering to knock first, she flung herself through Erik's door and into his arms.

If Madame Giry had looked tired, Erik looked simply exhausted. His mouth was more drawn than usual and the skin Christine could see beneath the familiar shadow was pale. Pulling back to look more closely, she spotted a spattering of discolorations against the light flesh—bruises.

Without thinking, she grasped his face tenderly between her hands, running her thumbs across his cheeks. They were wet, she noticed, with tears.

"You're crying."

"Nothing gets past you." He attempted a smile. She brushed her fingers against the expression, feeling his breath hitch once again. His lips parted under her touch, but other than that, he did not respond.

"What do you think is going to happen?" she asked, trying to focus her mind on the billions of questions bounding through her head.

"I have no idea," he whispered, closing his eyes to block out the look of pain on her face. Her hands continued to move gently against the lower half of his face; he resisted the urge to pull back. Something told him that she wouldn't hurt him…and this something, whatever it was, seemed to be stronger than eighteen years of instinct.

"Erik…" There had been a thought there, of that she was certain. However, the image of him standing there, eyes closed, breathing heavily, kind of took away any ability she had for rational thinking.

_Screw rationality._

She raised herself up, holding his face more gingerly than ever as she carefully pressed her mouth against his. She tasted tears and pulled him closer, sliding one hand around the back of his skull to better brace herself.

Erik gave a very tiny moan of surprise, but did not fight her. This was what he'd been waiting for forever, it seemed, to be touched with no fear, no horror…no anger. He relished the sensation of her warm mouth sliding against his own, wrapping both arms around her waist and holding her closer to his body.

She pulled back, unexpectedly, and he gave a little sound of protest. She smiled, leaning her forehead against his own clothed one and placing a hand against his cheek.

"Erik, we need to talk about this, you know."

"About what?" It was becoming difficult for him to focus. Couldn't she see that?

"About what happened last night. To you, with your father." She looked serious. He sighed, releasing her and taking a few halting steps backward to lean his weight against his desk. "You just aren't going to leave this one alone, are you?"

She smiled. "Nope. It'd be better for both of us if you'd just talk to me now and get it out of the way so we can return to more…pleasurable activities." Her eyebrows lifted suggestively. He grinned down at his shoes.

"Promise?"

"Hey, would this face lie to you?"

Erik shook his head in amusement and patted the very small space on the desk beside him invitingly. Christine backed away.

"Uh uh, buddy, not happening," she argued. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively and she added, "I know that trick. You'll lure me over there with a puppy-dog gaze and the promise of talk, and then you'll distract me with the inhuman power of your lips."

He snorted, withholding his laughter as best he could. "Inhuman power of my _lips_?"

"I refuse to be intoxicated," she told him wisely. "I'll stay over here while we chat, thank you very much."

Sighing, Erik muttered, "Damn, thwarted again."

"Womanly instincts, buster, learn to live with it." Sobering considerably, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Come on, spill."

"I told you already, my father's a jerk," Erik said stonily. "He's a drunken son of a bitch who hits me just because he can. Sometimes he brings his work buddies over and they take turns, make a game out of it: first person to make Erik cry doesn't have to buy the beer for a week. Is this what you really want to know, Christine? Are you really so interested in me that you'll take on my shit on top of whatever problems you have?"

"Yes," she answered with no hesitation. "Erik…"

"When I was a little kid, my mom left," he went on as if he hadn't heard her at all. "No explanation to me, just some screaming, a few tears, and a suitcase. She didn't even hug or kiss me goodbye. I think I was three and she just couldn't take it.

"I don't think I was a _bad_ kid. I mean, sure, I made some mistakes. Accidentally flushed my goldfish before they were really ready to go, wrote on my walls with her make-up, went klepto on the cookie jar. Kid stuff. Most moms wouldn't up and leave for kid stuff. But there was something else wrong with me…something that's been pushing people away all my life. Christine, why do you think my father hits me?"

"Because he's scum and he should die," was her instant, passionate reply. Erik smiled bitterly.

"Well, there's that. But there's something else...Christine, I've never told anyone this. Not by choice. I had to show the cops; they were going to arrest me and have it taken care of anyway if I didn't. And Madame Giry found out once, when I was about five. She saw me playing on the swings in that park after dark and came over to see why a little boy was out alone at night. She's the only one who has ever pitied me enough to take some action in my life. Well…besides you, anyway." His smile grew slightly fonder. "She introduced me to this place, taught me how to read and do basic math when my idiot father refused. And when she found me sneaking in to play with the piano, she exclaimed over my apparent genius and supplied me with an instrument of my very own. Told me I was a child prodigy."

Christine smiled back; this came as no surprise to her, not after hearing him go to town on the instrument.

"She's the only one who cared," he continued. "Nobody else wanted anything to do with me."

"Why not?" Christine asked. "What was so bad about you? You sound like you were a really sweet kid."

He smirked. "Sweet doesn't help much in this world, my dear. Or haven't you noticed that the sweet ones are usually the ones who get their heads shoved under fences at recess?"

Christine moved closer to him. "Why did they—"

"All hate me? Because I'm a freak, Christine. Mentally, I am as sound as I can be. Emotionally, I'm just a man who wants to be loved and accepted. But physically…"

"What?" she pressed gently when he paused. She came to stand directly in front of him, trying in vain to see his eyes behind the shadow he always masked his expression with.

"Why do you think I wear this hood?" he cried suddenly. "Do you think I hide my face because I find it amusing? I do it because I'm a total freak. _That's_ why my mother left. _That's _why my father uses me as a human punching bad. _That's_ why not one person in this school has ever bothered to say so much as a simple hello. I am disgusting."

Christine looked him over very seriously. Then, delicately, she slipped her arms around his neck and drew him to her, bending her head down so she could comfortably meet his lips.

He tried to retreat. "Christine, you don't want this, trust me—"

She yanked him back against her lips, kissing him with more fervor. "How," she asked around a series of quick, intense kisses, "do you—know what—I want?"

"Because I—um…" He blinked up at her, mouth slightly open. "What was I saying? I'm sure I had a point…"

She grinned smugly. "See? Females _do_ hold supreme power over the men-folk."

He got up, towering over her. "Do you?"

"Yes we do."

He lightly cupped her chin, tilting her head back. "You may want to rethink that statement," he murmured, brushing his mouth against the hollow of her throat. She drew in a sharp breath, grabbing his arms to steady herself.

"This is…so…mm…unfair," she gasped. He grinned against her flushed skin, feeling very pleased with himself.

"It is, isn't it?" He continued his ministrations, trailing light kisses up and down her neck. She arched against him, trying to regain control.

"So…totally…unfair."

"Mm hmm." He chuckled, his breath warming her skin. She shivered and grabbed his face, crushing his mouth against hers. He responded in kind, then pulled back. "I still think you should think this over. I mean, it's not a very stable period in my life right now and there's this whole matter of disfi—mmph!"

She had silenced him once again. This time, he didn't bother trying to break free.

A/N: Good God, that took a long time to time. Sorry I haven't been going on mad updating sprees as of late, I've been a bit busy…and very tired. On the plus side, I finally leapt into the fluff! –cheers for self- Also, I have a pretty good outline of how the plot's going to go.

Review Replies:

Linds- Enthralled? –swoons at awesome word-

midnightangel38- Mm, Christine is seventeen, which would make her either a junior or a senior. I've always pictured junior myself, so let's go with that. Can't make her the same age as Erik. –winks-

Alixy-points up at chapter and grins, feeling very self-satisfied- How's that? As for the baseball-bat-meets-Raoul…I don't hate him that much. However, what you do when I'm not looking is totally beyond my control…

Nade-Naberrie-smiles- I love tying my readers in knots.

SmileVampy- Abandon this fic? Are you kidding me? I'd get murdered if I left it now!

Awoman- lol, ah, criticism. I'll try to take this well…-sniffle- Kidding. I appreciate it and I sort of learned from it as I say…somewhere up there in that pile of fluff.

AFireInside-xx- Ah! No dying! DYING IS AGAINST THE RULES!

phantomsangel102- Wow, uh…hi. Read the whole thing, please? –grins-

ENTR'ACTE- Hey, if you had yourself a sexy Erik, you'd cling too. –winks-

Christie- Me? Enjoy messing with your heads? Why ever would you think such a thing? –evil laughter-

AMLisdabomb-glances up at chapter- I think she acted.

And to anyone I missed (especially Aki T, since I always seem to skip you, sorry), I LOVE YOU ALL AND I'M SORRY THAT MY MAIL SYSTEM'S WEIRD! –throws candy- Be cheerful and enjoy the happy sap that was this chapter!


	21. Visiting Plans

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"I can't take this anymore," Erik muttered into his palms. Christine took a tiny bite out of a cookie.

"Can't take what?" she wanted to know.

"Any of this!" he exploded, collapsing on the floor and closing his eyes. She rolled her own eyes and reached out to kick him gently.

"Drama queen."

"I am not," he argued childishly. "Christine, do you have any idea how stressful this week has been for me? Beatings, accusations…yesterday, someone threw a stuffed penguin at me." Looking perplexed, he added, "Who does that?"

"You too, huh?" Christine recalled her first day at the Cell. "Odd, the fixations some people have…"

"That isn't the point," Erik mumbled moodily.

Christine set her lunch aside and came to lie on the floor next to the worried young man, resting her head on his chest. "Don't listen to them," she advised. "They know absolutely nothing."

He sighed and she nestled closer to him, reveling in the rise and fall of his chest. "_You_ try dealing with life knowing you're a complete freak and then get back to me on this topic."

"You are not a freak," she told him exasperatedly for about the eightieth time. "Mysterious, a little strange, sexy maybe," –at this, she pressed a kiss to his lips— "but not a freak. Not at all."

He sighed again. "You don't understand."

"I _do_ understand," she insisted. "You're 'physically deformed', okay, fine. That doesn't make you freakish. You've gotten all the sympathy you will from me on that subject, so stop referring to yourself that way, all right?"

Erik smiled down at her, entwining the fingers of one hand in her hair. "All right, fine, you've got me there. I'll stop whining."

"And brooding?" she pressed.

He looked scandalized. "But brooding is my favorite hobby! If I give that up, how will I spend my time?"

Christine grinned slyly. "I've got a few ideas…"

"Oh, really?" Erik chuckled to himself. "I'll have to hear these."

She sat up abruptly, tapping a silencing finger against his lips. "Has to wait."

"What?" He sat up as well, frowning now. "Why? Do you _enjoy_ tormenting me?"

"There's that. Also, lunch is almost over and Madame will ensure that we have no games of any sort if I'm late to class again." Since starting these daily lunch-in-Erik's-room sessions, Christine had already managed to be late twice. A third tardy, Madame Giry had threatened, and she would not only be grounded but forced to eat in the cafeteria. Seeing as Raoul frequented that side of the school, Christine wasn't overly fond of the idea.

Neither was Erik, who had come to cherish these thirty-minute periods. He allowed Christine to grab him by his hoodie strings and drag him to his feet and out the door.

The pair reached the choir room with a moment to spare before the bell tolled. Madame lifted her eyebrows at them.

"Ah, better timing today, I see," she remarked. "Glad to see it. Miss Daaè, take your place, please. Erik, I believe you know where I want you."

"The question is where does Christine want him?" Carlotta mocked in a haughty stage whisper. Erik went rigid; Christine squeezed his hand one last time before heading to her spot in line.

As she passed Carlotta, she whispered, "Tact is really your strongest suit. You should think about a career in child psychology or something."

The diva made an ugly, sneering face and a rude gesture. Christine only smiled sweetly back, but once Carlotta's back was turned, she flipped her middle finger up fleetingly. Meg let out a snort of laughter; from his place at the piano, Erik grinned and muttered a distinct, "That's my girl."

Christine snickered to herself even as Madame brushed past her and muttered, "Very classy, Christine."

This only prompted Meg to laugh harder. Christine grinned a bit more sheepishly; being so rude was not her style at all, but the malicious girl had certainly deserved it. She could make an exception every now and again for situations like these, couldn't she?

"You are so lucky she didn't catch you," Meg gasped through her giggles. "You would've been branded for life as a loser if she had, doomed to walk the halls while dodging—"

"—flying penguins?" Christine finished with a tiny mocking smirk.

"Exactly. You would have totally regretted it."

"Oh, would I?" Shaking her head, Christine accepted the sheet of lyrics that was passed down to her. "What do we have today?"

"Looks like Simple Plan," Meg remarked with the tiny twitch that had become customary whenever her mother commanded a very recent song to be practiced. "So I gather from your expression that becoming a social crater in the ground is not your deepest fear?"

Christine shrugged. "Don't care, to tell the truth. Raoul's on that side of the fence. Carlotta's over there. I think I like the company better on the outcast lawn, personally."

"Plus you're afraid you'll lose Erik if you become popular." Meg smirked, but Christine heard the envy in her friend's tone.

"I'm not—," she started to reply.

Madame cleared her throat. "I believe your voices are in working order, ladies and gentlemen, so the talking can stop. Erik, music please?"

"Can this song even be played on the piano?" Christine asked in a whisper. Meg's eye twitched again.

"If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that _any_ song can be played on the piano."

_Another day is goin' by_

_I'm thinking about you all the time_

_But you're out there_

_And I'm here waiting_

_And I wrote this letter in my head_

_Cause so many things were left unsaid_

_But now you're gone_

_And I can't think straight_

_This could be the one last chance_

_To make you understand, yeah_

_I'd do anything _

_Just to hold you in my arms_

_To try to make you laugh_

_Cause somehow I can't _

_Put you in the past_

_I'd do anything _

_Just to fall asleep with you_

_Will you remember me_

_Cause I know I won't forget you_

_Together we broke all the rules_

_Dreamin' of droppin' out of school_

_And leave this place_

_And never come back_

_So now, maybe after all these years_

_If you miss me, have no fear_

_I'll be here_

_I'll be waitin'_

_This could be the one last chance_

_To make you understand_

_And I just can't let you _

_Leave me once again, yeah_

_I'd do anything_

_Just to hold you in my arms_

_To try to make you laugh_

_Cause somehow I can't _

_Put you in the past_

_I'd do anything_

_Just to fall asleep with you_

_Will you remember me_

_Cause I know I won't forget you_

_I close my eyes_

_And all I see is you_

_I close my eyes_

_I try to sleep_

_I can't forget you…_

"Stop. Prepare yourselves and start again," Madame called. The teens groaned.

"She's going off on one of those stupid 'you all suck, but I won't explain why' tangents again," Meg mumbled. Christine sighed, resigning herself to a class of torture as Erik's fingers paused for a split second on the keys, then started their mad dance again.

By the end of the period, her voice was completely hoarse. When Madame finally let them off for five minutes of free time, Christine simply fell over onto the floor.

Erik's face appeared over her. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking quite amused. She scowled, closing her eyes.

"No," she answered simply. "I'm dead. Cart my body away, please."

His face took a sharp turn for the troubled. She blinked.

"Erik? That was a joke. You know, your cue to chuckle or kiss me or…something?"

He rocked slightly on his heels. "Christine…this is going to sound weird, but…could you do something for me?"

She sat up, completely serious. "Of course. What's wrong?"

"I can't stop thinking about that kid, Joseph," he admitted. Her first instinct was to make a joke, but his mouth was set in the thin line that suggested that he was upset. She reached for his hand.

"What about him?"

"Well, I was wondering if you could find out what room he's staying in at the hospital for me. I want to…it's really stupid, but I'd like to visit him." He licked his lips. "Even if his aunt's still stalking me."

"Oh, are you kidding?" Christine asked. "I thought she'd decided to leave you alone."

He snorted. "She's seen my face. In her eyes, there isn't a less trustworthy person on this planet."

Christine decided not to comment on this. Instead, she said, "I'll come with you. We can go after school if you want."

The faintest smile she'd ever seen graced his features. "Thank you."

A/N: Look, I'm _not_ dead! And I've returned to torture you poor people with yet more lyrics. Get used to it because I just found a mess of Erik-ish songs that I'm planning on using soon. –wide grin-

Review Replies:

Just-an-Echo- Hi! Another person! Wow, I feel so amazingly lucky…

Orion Maxwell- Glad you're enjoying it. If you want to be informed of my updates, stick me on author alert and wait for the billions of emails. –grins-

Dark-Autumn- Updating. –salutes-

Silent Tragedy- Wow, that's heavy (-blatantly stealing from Back to the Future-) I'm glad I could motivate you to take some action. I hope it goes well for you.

AMLisdabomb- You have no idea how hard I laughed while reading the end of this review : "So Erik beat the shit out of Joseph. Shit happens." Lol, I think that's hilarious.

Christie- Continuing!

MadameAngel- I instilled hyperness. Always a plus. –laughs-

V Leader of Amoi- Whoops, it was cliché? My bad…-nervous chuckle-

Alixy-calls after you- Hey, that's my hero! I need him for more chapters, so don't keep him out too long!

SmileVampy- I didn't think I was that good…thanks for giving me a bit of confidence there. –smiles-

Southern-born-and-bred- Short and sweet reviews are nice too. Thank you.

GabreilsGirl- Cool. –smiles-

Angel-of-Music1331- Ooh fudge!

Opera Jessie- Aw, I definitely recommend these songs. I love them! –clutches CDs to chest-

Fox Xanatos- As you wish. –sweeping bow-

Devilishly Pure- Cooking? Me? –sweatdrops- You don't want to see that picture, trust me.

Chibi Hime- It's the little moments of happiness that makes life worth living, I think. …which is rather irrelevant. –grins-

SALLYMAETHEHICK-lifts hands with an innocent smile- Not tellin'.

Morifaraer- Woah, all these skeptics are getting changed over. That's so cool! –squees, then gains control over self- Ahem.

Lady Pheonix1- Wow, uh…violence isn't the answer? –laughs- I appreciate the sentiments though.

Totschafe- Drooling? Would you like a mop, dear?

ENTR'ACTE- Hey, at least you had a snow day. I still had to contend with Geometry. –grumbles- At least I've got a week off now…

Padfootwolfboy- Not a mister, but that's all right. –laughs- And I love Lupin…he's my alter-ego. –cheerfully insane expression-

Phantom of the Past- Here's some more. Enjoy.

Dueformiracle-looks around- Um, one of my readers just melted…can we get a bucket over here?

Awoman- That was fantastic advice. I feel much better now.

La Foamy- Another threat of melting! I'm going to lose all my readers this way!

Xoxerikangelxox- ANOTHER ONE! –sighs and goes to find several buckets-

EmailyGirl- lol, don't you just hate when that happens?

Aki T-hugs- I'm so sorry! I really don't mean to forget you! I'M SORRY!

On that note, I may not get to everyone in review replies from now on. I'm very sorry, but I've got two pages of pure replies here and it's getting very difficult. I'll still try, of course, but if I miss you, don't feel all depressed and –cough cough- explode on me, okay? I'm still offering cookies!


	22. Hospital Visit

Disclaimer: Me? Own this -insert own fantastic adjective here? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"Are you sure about this?"

Erik looked sideways at Christine and swallowed. They were standing just outside room 334, intensive care, and, no he wasn't sure. But he was certain that the feelings deep inside of him weren't going to fade unless he ignored all instinct and stepped into that room.

She gripped his hand tightly as he led the way through the door and into a small, pastel-colored room. Flowers adorned the walls along with several teddy bears and what looked like fifty get-well cards. Christine had never met this Joseph Buquet specifically, but she vaguely remembered seeing him with Raoul at the party. A football player, she assumed, if the large balloon in the corner was anything to judge by.

"Did you know him?" she asked Erik quietly as they came to stand by the comatose boy's bedside.

"I'm his third cousin twice removed, remember?" he quipped, using the cover story they'd cooked up to get him in. The hospital staff was rather picky about who they let into the "coma-ward".

"I'm serious, Erik," she replied, poking him in the side. He squirmed.

"A little."

"Really?"

"Christine, I know _everyone_ a little. He's on the varsity football team, lives with his mom, does his homework. He's a bit of an ass, but nothing compared to some of them. I can say one thing for him: he's never thrown anything." A wry smile lifted under his shadow.

"Why do you think someone would do this?" she asked.

"I don't know." He sank down in a gray plush chair and scrubbed his hands against his face, pausing with his fingers pressed against his cheek as if he'd burned himself with his own flesh. "What I want to know," he continued before she could comment on this, "is why anyone would bother to suspect me."

"You _were _at the beach," she offered timidly.

He looked up sharply. "So you think I did it? Just because I was at the fucking beach?"

She drew back, frightened by the sudden surge of anger. Erik never used such coarse language around her and he rarely showed his temper. Exercising control over himself had always seemed his best trait.

Now, however, he was out of his seat and towering over her, mouth razor-thin. "You think it was me, don't you? God, Christine!"

She shook her head, reaching for him and drawing him into a tight embrace in an effort to calm him. He seemed to lose all the strength in his legs, crumpling against her body.

"I didn't do it," he muttered into her hair. "I swear it, Christine! I would never do that, not after what I've gone through…"

"I know," she whispered back, clutching the back of his head as one would hold a child. "I know it wasn't you. I _know_ you, Erik, you wouldn't do something like this."

"Why do they keep asking me?" he questioned, voice muffled. "What did I do to them? That damn officer keeps coming after me…I've seen her outside my _house_, Christine. My house! She just sits out there, watching me as if she thinks I'll snap and plead guilty. Why won't she leave me alone? I didn't do it!"

Christine said nothing, only held him closer. Finally, he drew away, sniffling slightly. She could see the tears on his face, snaking down across his cheeks and lips. She kissed him, tender, her hand moving unconsciously to wipe away the tears she couldn't remove with her mouth. Her fingers slipped upward, into the shadow, into uncharted territory…

His hand shot up and captured her wrist in a painfully-tight grip. He pressed her backwards into the wall, pulling back from her kiss.

"What are you doing?" he demanded and she was surprised to hear not anger but pure panic edging his tone.

"I'm going to prove to you that I don't give a damn about your appearance," she answered defiantly. "Erik, we've built this entire friendship up without my ever seeing your face. I think I deserve a bit of credit here."

"Is that what you think?" he asked in a quiet, trembling voice. "You don't get it. The reason you've always been able to deal with me this way is because you have got some mental picture of me as this mysterious tortured artist. You probably have all the details worked out in that fantasy portrait. But that's just what it is, Christine, a _fantasy_. The face that I have, the one I was so cursed with, is not a dream visage, my dear. It's a nightmare!"

He wrenched away from her, facing Joseph Buquet's sleeping body once again. The boy had short brown hair and an All-American face. If it weren't for the bruises covering his eyes and cheeks, or for the smashed look his broken nose had, he would've looked like a perfectly nice boy.

"Looks mean nothing," Erik whispered, more to convince himself than anything else. "Appearance is non-existent."

Christine's hand closed over his shoulder. "I think it's time we got out of here," she murmured. He nodded, wanting to be anywhere but here, in this hospital room…with her.

A/N: Short, yes, but it was a happy little…okay, not happy. But it was an update! Can't deny that, can you?

Review Replies:

Paranoia- Actually, my friend just told me about that song. I'll have to track it down.

Fox Xanatos- I'm glad that scene amused so many people. I was kind of nervous writing it…

ENTR'ACTE- Not a series of song-fics, no. I'm just adding in the occasional song I hear that reminds me of Erik. And there are quite a few of them…-twitch-

Xoxerikangelxox- lol, all right there? That bucket wasn't too cramped, was it?

MadameAngel- Umm…-watches helplessly as yet another fangirl removes my hero- I kind of need him…

Alixy- Woah, you don't like cookies? –eyes bug out of head- That's blasphemous! Kind of like my friend who hates pizza…but never mind. What exactly is the difference between fluff and mush?

GabreilsGirl- It is kinda perfect, isn't it? Just the whole thing about how appearance is so important in school….yeah.

Just-an-Echo- Voila! More!

Silent Tragedy- Uh…-blinks- What was that, exactly?

AMLisdabomb- I have no idea what you were talking about with the…stump thing…umm…yeah, I don't have AIM, I have yahoo…and you aren't an asshole, you're very sweet for reviewing so much. And I still think that "shit happens" thing is utterly hilarious. I love black humor…

Jedi Blu, Lady At Large- Well, that's a frightening image. Here, have an update!

La Foamy- lol, I personally loved writing the penguin thing…I wondered how you guys would react. Glad it was positive.

V Leader of Amoi- Ah, I see. Everything now makes sense….

SmileVampy- Drama queens are just so much fun…

EmailyGirl- When I get a chance, I'll do that.

Padfootwolfboy-nervous twitch- Ah, um…okay. I'll let my alter-ego know…

erik'sangel527- Sorry! I don't mean to forget you guys, I swear I don't…

Angel-of-Music1331- How is that logic, exactly? To quote the great Buffy: "Your logic does _not_ resemble our Earth-logic." Hah, sad, yes I am…

Aki T- No, she hasn't, as you can see here. I have a frightening fascination with song lyrics and have never been in a choir class because when I sing, people's eardrums bleed. Thus, I come up with randomness. –grins charmingly- There, exposition that you really didn't want or need.


	23. Musings of the Erik

Disclaimer: _Still _don't own anything. How sad for me.

_Way to scare away the one person who accepts you, asshole!_ Erik berated himself angrily, kicking a pop can down the street. He hadn't meant to explode at Christine that way, it had just sort of happened. It was as if all the emotion he'd been holding inside had just whooshed out of him in one great outburst.

_Yeah, great_, he thought miserably. _Now Christine's scared of you…fantastic…_

He'd dropped her off at the Giry's. She had offered him an invitation to come in and watch movies, but he'd seen something in her eyes, a hooded expression that suggested fear and uncertainty. He'd declined and tried not to see the way she sighed, clearly relieved.

Obviously he wasn't going to go home. He _could_ go back to the school, he supposed, but he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with the teams that tended to hang around after hours for practice and besides, Christine would be able to find him too easily there. Assuming she even wanted to, after the display he'd given her…

_Can't you control yourself?_

The last thing he wanted in the world was to turn into his father. He prayed every night to God that he wouldn't become the man he had to hide from every night. And he'd thought, up until very recently, that he'd be able to keep his temper in check long enough to escape unscathed.

_Guess that was just as much a fantasy as everything else…_

He should've known that she wouldn't be content with just seeing his veiled face forever. Mystery was good, but in small doses, he mused with some level of irritation. Why couldn't people just accept what he gave them? Why did everyone insist on getting underneath his skin?

_Oh, there haven't been that many who have succeeded, _his mind chided. _She's the first, really. _

The first and last, if he had anything to do with it. Some people were just doomed to a life of solitude and he seemed to be one of them.

Making up his mind, he decided to go back to the Giry's and tell Christine that whatever they had going had to end. It would only hurt her, he knew, and he couldn't take knowing that he could cause her pain.

Erik glanced toward the sky, frowning at the dark clouds that were swirling up there. How long had he been walking?

At least an hour, according to his watch. It was five-thirty…and starting to rain. Grimacing, Erik pulled his coat more firmly around his body and started the long trek back toward Christine's house.

A/N: Fwahahahaha! This is the shortest chapter I will ever write, not even a full page! I'm doing it just to torture you guys. –grins- I mean…because I feel like it?

Review Replies:

Totschafe- I have the feeling that this update's going to get me poked anyway, thanks to its mad shortness. And everyone likes mops!

SmileVampy- Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to get hit with a lot of things….

MadameAngel- Ooh, tanky for bringing him back. He's kind of important to the plot and stuff…

Silent Tragedy- Ah, makes sense. I'm glad I could inspire you to take some action. That makes me really happy and cupid-ish…er, I mean…

erik'sangel527- Here's an update, although I don't know that it will satisfy you…

Aki T- Heheheheheh….oh, sorry, was I doing that evil laugh thing again? I thought I managed to control myself…

Dark-Autumn- Penguins do totally rock. Nothing can beat the penguin…except perhaps the mop.

Yes, I will be updating again soon. This was just a little randomness to…throw you all off-guard? Yeah, I'm not coming up with any good excuses for this terrible little chapter. Sorry.


	24. Rainstorms and Thundering Emotions

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter- (because apparently, this disclaimer was so well loved)

A/N: Just a small warning: This chap. is slightly more…hot? Nothing to worry about though.

This was the only answer. This was the only way. This was…

…really going to hurt, Erik realized as he stopped across the street from Christine's home. He'd spent the entire two-mile hike telling himself firmly that this was the right thing to do, that Christine would be able to forget about him and go settle down with someone who deserved her—like Raoul, perhaps, much as the thought pained him—and he could go back to composing music in his little basement and avoiding anything that breathed.

But standing here, staring at that two-story house and imagining the dark-haired young woman sitting somewhere inside, probably listening to music or reading a book or, heaven forbid, _showering _(_Bad Erik!_ his mind cried, _Don't go there!_), he couldn't seem to make himself take those final steps over the lawn and the rain-spattered cement.

He was soaked and he was miserable. What was he even doing? Christine wasn't going to want to see him after his explosion.

_Especially if she happens to be showering_, his mind murmured slyly.

_Stop that._

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Erik turned away. If he hurried, maybe he could make it to the school before the janitors closed up. He really hated forcing his way through that tiny biology lab window…

"Erik?"

_Shit, you have got to be kidding me…_

He picked up the pace. Maybe she hadn't seen him specifically yet…maybe she'd only _guessed_ at who he was from that distance. It was raining pretty damn hard, after all.

"Erik, what the hell are you doing out here?"

He blinked. She was standing on her porch, clad in a teen shirt and jeans, wearing no shoes, hands on her hips. She didn't look thrilled to see him.

"Erik, get in here _now_!" she yelled. "You are going to catch pneumonia!"

When he didn't move, she gave a huffing sigh that he could hear even from across the street—_Now _there's_ a feat­_—and yelled, "Erik, get over here! I swear, if you make me sound any more like my mother, I will _kill_ you!"

He said nothing. She gave another loud sigh of frustration and stomped across the street to him, making splashing noises as she romped through every puddle there was.

"Erik, are you _deaf_?" she snarled, stopping inches from him and sticking a finger in his face.

"Why are you out here?" he asked quietly. "You're getting all wet."

"And you are completely saturated! Why are you on this street, Erik? Why aren't you at home?" she demanded.

"I…I…"

She cocked her head to the side, sopping curls falling into her eyes. Erik promptly lost his train of thought at the sight. His knees felt strangely weak, his mouth was dry…well, not dry, exactly. But that was only because it was hanging open and rain was dripping into it.

"Erik, are you all right?" she asked, looking concerned now. Her eyes seemed to sparkle. Erik wobbled.

_Why am I here again? And has she always been this sexy?_

"Erotic?"

"What did you say?" he blurted, shaking his head.

"I said, Erik?" Christine frowned. "Seriously, are you going deaf? We can get you one of those little ear…things…"

_She's so cute when she's babbling…_

_Why is she babbling?_

She was nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He straightened slightly, regaining the strength in his legs.

_What is happening here? She gets all domineering, I get wussy and then it switches?_

"Erik, come on, what are you doing out here?" Her eyes burned into him. He felt his might tremble slightly.

_Oh, come on! What the hell is wrong with me?_

"You are coming inside," she decided without asking his permission. "Meg and Mrs. Giry are out at dinner, so you don't have to worry about anyone but me pitying your poor drowned-puppy self." She rolled her eyes. "Come on, I can practically feel myself catching cold…"

Having nothing left to do, Erik followed her. She muttered to herself the whole time, grumbling about idiot boys standing out in the rain for no apparent reason.

He stopped on the porch. Christine scowled at him.

"Are you coming or are you going to make me pick you up and carry you in?"

He shook his head. "I can't come in. I'll get everything all wet and stuff…"

"Then the floor will get wet. Relax, Mrs. Giry will understand."

"I can't. I should just go home." Erik turned and made to step off the porch.

She grabbed the back of his hoodie. "Oh, my God, Erik. I will personally tear your clothes off if that will get you out of the cold—"

He blinked, every limb freezing. _Did she just…_

"Erik…Erik, God, don't take everything so damn literally! Get the hell in here!" Christine rolled her eyes. Erik obediently followed her in, trying to stop his blood from racing.

She disappeared around the corner for a moment, leaving him dripping all over the carpet. When she returned, her arms were laden with towels.

"Here, dry off," she told him. "I can get you a change of clothing too, you can dress in the bathroom."

"Thanks," he muttered, accepting the towels. Christine smiled.

"Anytime. Now, the bathroom's over here. Get in, re-dress, come back out. Don't even think of escaping, because that window is pretty damn small."

He chuckled, despite the feelings rising in him. "Okay, okay. But you aren't giving me Meg's clothing are you?"

"Of course not." She smirked. "I gave you some of Madame's."

He twitched. "Are you kidding?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Chuckling again, Erik brushed past her and went into the bathroom. The clothes she'd offered him weren't all that bad, although he'd never seen Madame as the type to own a Pink Floyd shirt. He re-emerged, a towel draped over his head as a sort of protective cover, in the black tee-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants that were just a bit short on him.

Christine looked up from the couch she was sitting on and gave anther roll of her eyes. "Erik, come on…take that towel off."

He shook his head. "Christine, I didn't come here to reveal myself to you, okay?"

She said nothing for a moment, then did something rather unexpected: she giggled.

"That came out sounding really dirty, didn't it?" he realized, feeling a grin spread across his face.

"Yeah, it really did." She patted the cushion next to her. "Come over here. I swear, I won't try to unmask you."

Obeying, Erik tried to make himself comfortable. She hadn't changed yet and that shirt was sort of see-through…he averted his eyes as quickly as he could.

She was still smirking, he saw from under the soft fluffiness that was his towel.

"What?" he demanded.

"You are wearing a towel over your face," she replied. "I'd say that qualifies as desperate, wouldn't you?"

He shrugged helplessly. She took his hand and pulled him from the sofa.

"Come on, I've got something better," she said, leading him to a dark room at the end of the hall.

"Better?" he echoed blankly.

"Yeah, Mrs. Giry spent Mardi Gras in Louisiana once…she brought something back….here!" Looking very satisfied with herself, she held up a black mask that would cover three-quarters of the human face. Erik sighed with relief as she handed it to him and turned her back, giving him ample time to toss the towel aside and settle the mask over his face.

"Perfect," he breathed. She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled.

"I thought you'd like it."

He followed her out of the room, expecting her to lead him back to the couch. Instead, she went into the bedroom directly across from Madame Giry's. He hovered in the doorway, feeling strangely insecure.

"Um, do you want me to…go back out there?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

She shrugged. "You can wait in here. I'm just going to change."

"Oh. Okay…" Erik turned around to face away from her. She grinned, catching his arm and pulling him back.

"Don't be silly, come sit on the bed. I'll only be a minute in the bathroom."

"Bathroom, right." Feeling stupid now, he did as she'd asked and watched her rummage in the dresser for a nightgown. She offered a quick, carefree wink and ducked into the adjoining room, closing the door behind her.

Erik let out the breath he'd been holding and sank back against the wall, eyes shut. He could see her behind his eyelids as if the image had been burned there; her wet, dark hair hung across a face that somehow managed to be innocent and terribly seductive at the same time. Her shirt, soaked through, revealed a bit more than it usually did as it clung to her curves. And that smile she'd sent his way…

_God, Erik, stop being such a pervert_, he scolded himself. _Breathe, come on, you can't do this…_

The door opened again and Christine emerged, clad in the light nightgown. Her hair was still damp and her smile was still in place. Erik wanted very briefly to kill himself.

"Hey," she said lightly, flopping down beside him and looking up at him lazily from under her eyelashes. His stomach flipped uncomfortably.

"Hi," he croaked back. Her smiled darkened slightly, then brightened again.

"So are you ever going to explain to me what you were doing standing outside my house in the pouring rain?" she asked, reaching over to take his hand. He swallowed and attempted a smile.

"Never. But trust me, it's for a good reaso—ahh…"

Her fingers were tracing patterns on his palm. He shivered, trying not to see her smile widen.

"I think I could get it out of you," she challenged absently, focusing on torturing him. Her fingers moved up his palm to stroke along his wrist. He drew in a breath as she continued up his arm, drawing tiny circles in the flesh.

"I…doubt…it," he ground out with a large amount of effort. She laughed softly, sensing his lie as clearly as he could. She brought his hand up to her lips and pressed a series of kisses against his wrist, mimicking the kiss he'd given her on the staircase. He tried not to moan.

"Womanly power," she taunted, scooting closer to him and resting a hand against the side of his face. She transferred her kisses to his throat, using the tactic he'd used on her just a few days ago.

"This is just unfair—ngg…mm…God, this is just not right." He tried to shake himself out of the spell she'd cast on him.

"Feels pretty right to me," she murmured against his ear, gently nipping at the soft flesh of his earlobe. He gasped.

"Why…oh, screw it!" Grabbing her roughly, he drove his mouth into hers, gladly allowing her hungry tongue access when she asked for it. Her hands snaked over his arms, chest, legs. He groaned into her mouth.

_This isn't right, _his mind repeated weakly.

_I couldn't care less. Even a monster needs love._

She pressed him back into the bed, moving her mouth against his lips, along his jaw line, her fingers digging into his hair. It was dark brown, she'd noticed as soon as he'd removed his protective towel, and a bit longer than most guys wore their hair. That was just fine with her; made it easier to tangle her hands in.

He gasped into her again as her fingernails scratched gently against his scalp.

_Can't do this, can't do this, can't do this,_ his mind hummed even as her hands moved down the sides of his face, her fingers slipping deftly underneath his mask.

"Wait," he gasped out, but made no move to stop her.

"I love you," she moaned, removing the piece of cloth without hesitation. Her eyes opened and he flinched, expecting her to pull away from him. Instead, she ran her hand down the marred flesh, following the trail she left with her lips. His eyes rolled back into his head.

"This is what you've been so terrified of?" she asked, breaking the kiss and leaning back. He nodded, staring down at his hands as his fingers twisted in the black shirt nervously.

She reached out and slapped his chest. He blinked.

"What?"

"Oh, come on. You didn't honestly think I was _that_ shallow!" Christine laughed.

"B-but…"

"Come on," she said, shaking her head and grasping his hand, pulling him from the bed. "If Meg and Mrs. Giry come back and find us making out in my room, they may be slightly…shocked. Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

Erik frowned. She had unveiled the greatest, more horrible secret he owned…and she wanted to watch a movie?

_Well, this is unexpected._

A/N: Ah ha! A longer chapter! And I love it, if I do say so myself. I've kind of got the shivers…hope I didn't depress you guys too much with the unveiling. I think it fits my Christine pretty well…

Review Replies:

Totschafe- lol, here's a longer one. Enjoy.

Fleur- Ah, a newbie. Hi!

KatStarr- Yeah, I am mean…but look what I've supplied you with! Cold shower material!

AMLisdabomb- You're hilarious. I love your novel-length reviews.

MadameAngel- Woah, woah, who said anything about ending there! Wow! No, there's still a plethora of chapters to come, calm down.

Just-an-Echo- Ookay, I'll try!

SmileVampy- Because deep down underneath my sweet, puppy-dog eyes, I'm really a very cruel person. I'm sorry.

TheSanityStealingPenguinQueen- PENGUINS! Oh, you're going to love chapter…which one was it? Meh, you'll see.

Maeve Of the Nile- Obvious, eh? Well, we'll see. I've never been all that good at secretive stuff like this.

erik'sangel527- Erik's a bit better off for now…

Jedi Blu, Lady At Large- AHH! –turns and runs like hell-


	25. Musical Fluffiness

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter- (because apparently, this disclaimer was so well loved)

_What is wrong with the world?_ Erik asked himself as his fingers danced absently through Christine's long curls. The two were curled up on the Giry couch and Erik wondered if he'd lost his mind at some point in the evening.

_Everyone and their brother avoids me because of my face, because of something I can't control…something I've been cursed with for eighteen horrible years. Then Christine comes along and finds out exactly what I've been hiding and the next thing I know, we're watching Moulin Rouge. How does that happen?_

On the screen, Ewan McGregor was dancing around merrily with his newfound love and his lisping best friend. He seemed so content to be living a lie and Erik had to wonder if he could feel the same way for long. His body was still strung tight from the way Christine had kissed him less than an hour ago and try as he might, he couldn't manage to get his mind to shut down.

If Christine felt similarly, she didn't show it. She was pressed against him, eyes fixed on the screen as if she hadn't seen the film a thousand times before; she had, of course—she'd even told him that it was her favorite. "That whole doomed romance thing," she'd said casually, as if the term 'doomed romance' didn't befit their own relationship at all.

His arms were shaking, wrapped around her body. She took a moment to smile up at him.

"Are you cold?" she asked gently, shifting against him. He nodded, though it couldn't have been further from the truth and she pulled out of his embrace long enough to fetch a blanket from a nearby chair.

"Thanks," he managed when she curled against him and draped the blanket over both of their bodies.

"Hey, can't let my guy freeze," she commented, pulling his arms around herself and taking his hand in both of hers. He nestled his face against her hair, inhaling the still-fresh scent of her shampoo.

_How do girls manage to keep that scent about them even after a day of running around? _he wondered. It seemed to him that his shampoo stopped smelling nice after about twenty minutes, but Christine's appeared to last all day. _That really isn't very fair. Gives her the intoxicating advantage…_

He tried to turn his attention to the movie. The couple on the screen were so very much like Christine and himself, he mused. Hopeless and from completely different circles, yet somehow in love. Madness, perhaps, but that was life for you: it seemed to sneak up without any kind of warning.

"They don't even know it yet, do they?" he asked quietly. "That they are completely doomed."

Christine looked up at him again, surprised. "I think they've always known it," she answered. "But knowing doesn't make something real. Things aren't always so set in stone, Erik, even when they seem hopeless."

His lips turned upward. "Cliché, my dear, but true."

"My specialty." She kissed the back of his hand and gave a happy little sigh. He resisted the almost-unshakable desire to kiss her again, movie be damned.

"When is Meg and her mother supposed to—" he began. Christine answered before the question was even out.

"Pretty soon. They had a dinner-and-a-movie night planned, I guess…I think Mrs. Giry was trying to be a mother for an evening instead of a teacher." From her expression, Erik assumed that she found this amusing.

"And they didn't ask you along?" he asked.

"They did, actually." Sitting up, she met his eyes. "I declined. I wanted to call you…hoped you wouldn't still be mad at me. I was just going to pick up the phone when I saw you standing out in the rain like some kind of crazy moron."

He was surprised. "Mad? I wasn't mad."

"Oh, so the swearing and the livid expression was a new form of chipperness?" Her eyebrows lifted, giving her the perfect skeptical expression. Erik bit his lip.

"Well…okay, so I was a little bit upset. But it was more with the situation than anything else…"

"_Sure_ it was." Christine shook her head. "Erik, you can tell me anything. You don't have to shield me from things just because you think…whatever it is guys think about girls."

He said nothing, knowing that she was right. She wasn't a frail Carlotta-type at all; she was stronger than he was. And he was being utterly stupid in trying to hide himself from her. He took a deep breath.

"What you said earlier…about loving me. Was that?"

"The absolute truth," she answered firmly. "I can't explain it Erik, but I know it's true. When I first realized that I cared for you as more than a friend…well, Meg was the first to realize it, really. I thought it was impossible, that love didn't happen that way. We _are_ awfully young…but now…" She couldn't seem to put it into words. He nodded.

"I know what you're saying." Now _he_ was the one sounding cliché, but he couldn't help himself. Love was…

"All you need is love," he found himself singing softly. She laughed, clearly shocked.

"Well…no one ever told me you could sing. What else are you hiding?"

"Many, many things," he answered as cryptically as he could. "Does that excite you?"

She laughed harder. "You're completely insane, has anyone told you that?"

"Far too many people," he answered teasingly. "But it's always nice to gain a new fan."

She took her hand and placed it against the deformed side of his face, lightly running her fingers through the unsightly grooves and over the bubbled flesh. He closed his eyes and relaxed into her touch, feeling his entire body burn for her.

"God…what did I do to deserve an angel?" he asked. She smiled wryly.

"Going for the Casanova award tonight, are we?"

"That was the plan." Erik caught her wrist and used it to pull her forward into a short kiss. She broke it and turned once again to lie against him and focus on the movie.

"Shush," she reprimanded him when he tried to speak. "This is my favorite part."

The couple on the screen were shooting clever grins to each other, singing, kissing in the dark where no one could find them. Erik decided then and there that it was his favorite part too.

A/N: Okay, I didn't expect to write this chapter, but I decided, hey, it's almost Valentine's Day. Despite the Hallmarkyness of the holiday, I figured I'd do another purely-fluffed-out chap to commemorate the occasion. I hope you don't all mind…also, I sort of stole the setting (cuddling/Moulin Rouge) from a recent event my friend had with her…Fuzzy. I don't think she'll mind me borrowing it, though. –grins-

Review Replies:

Alixy- Woah, you reviewed twice. Interesting. No, I don't have school for a week. Expect some mad updates!

Number47- lol, I want to go see this movie again, it's so amazing…as for the random attachment to things, I thought I was the only one who did that. Weird.

I-LUV-ILC- Thank you.

TheOneAndOnlySkippy- lol, hey, you can never have too many TV announcers in the world…

OboetaOn- Glad you enjoyed it.

Maglenan Songbird- Yeah, that tends to happen because I have a million reviews and I feel the need to reply to each of them individually…because I'm random that way. –beams-

Fox Xanatos- Tanky!

ENTR'ACTE- Of course I still have the cookies, partake of them to your liking!

KatStarr- Gotta love the old-school bands on the sexy guys…

Angel-of-Music1331- Baton…twirling…? Ookay…hope you weren't depressed!

Falling Phoenix- Extreme is my best work, apparently. I guess reality doesn't work for me. –chuckles-

Mill- Ooh, sugar! –leaps on the chocolate- And I won't abandon this. I have no wish to be Punjabbed/torched/beaten with a flamingo.

EmailyGirl- You can't be Christine because…she's…fictional? Sorry.

AmandaTheVampireLove- Another new person! Rock on…I love getting new reviewers.

LiTTleLoTTe1991- Err…can't get you money or Broadway…how 'bout another fluffy-chapter?

Aki T- lol, glad you liked it.

little wind- I'll do the explanation thing soon, no worries. Thanks for the sweet review. –grins-

Eek- Hm, it seems that I've hooked quite a few caffeine-addicts. –laughs-

Jedi Blu, Lady At Large- …thank you? –blinks- I really suck at deciphering things, lol.

draegon-fire- Yeah, I really like my Christine too. I love Emmy Rossum's depiction, but she seemed too…clueless to be in high school. And Leroux's was too much like Anne Rice's Claudia to me…except for the…vampire thing…wow, too much exposition into the mind of the Fufu again. Sorry.

Chibi Hime- Here's another shorty. I'll try to work on more long ones soon.

SmileVampy- Sexy dreams are…good. –laughs-

Totschafe- Drooling _and_ rambles about possums and penguins…I feel so loved. Lol, possum kinda rhymes with Rossum…anyway…

erik'sangel527- Yeah, I wish he went to my school too…wait, tears? –blinks- That's so awesome!

La Foamy- As a matter of fact, I just got some chocolate. Would you like some?

Pirate Perian- Don't you just wish that was how it went in the book/movie?

Mlisdabomb- Umm…Joe?


	26. Happiness Meets Angst

Disclaimer: Me? Own this masterish...ness? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"Meg, I've never met anyone like him!" Christine gushed, tapping her hands against the back of the seat in front of them. The friends were seated on the school bus, trying to ignore the insanity around them.

"I _know_, he's just the 'sweetest thing ever', right?" Meg rolled her eyes, closing her eyes. "You've told me all this. Can I please get my morning nap in? Unless we have a sub first hour, I'll never manage it in class."

Christine fell silent, staring out the window to avoid the boy across the aisle who was leering at her. _Too many damn lechers at this school_, she thought absently. _Erik seems to be the only decent male around…_

Erik. He'd been so sweet, holding her nervously as they watched Moulin Rouge. She'd dozed off in his arms before the film had ended and didn't recall saying good night. Meg told her in the morning that she and Mrs. Giry had come home, Erik had blushingly carried Christine to her bed, and said good night himself. This, of course, was what had set Christine off on her happy little tangent.

The bus pulled up to the school. Meg gave an annoyed sigh when Christine prodded her, but opened her eyes anyway and rose from the seat.

"Another day, same Hell," she quipped, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Did you do your Geometry homework?"

"Let's hope so," Christine replied with a shrug. To be honest, she couldn't remember doing work of any kind the previous night…then again, she couldn't remember being given homework of any kind. Really, her memory seemed to be shot.

Erik smiled nervously at her from his place in Mr. Hall's classroom. She went to his side and greeted him with a gentle kiss.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he teased. "Did you do your homework?"

She looked panicked. "We actually had some?"

He laughed. "No, I'm just screwing with your head. Hall's not here today anyway, so you're safe."

"We have a sub?" Christine's heart sank. At least with the regular teacher, the kids behaved…sort of well. Which really wasn't all that well at all. But with a substitute, they were sure to spiral completely out of hand.

Catching her worry, Erik smiled again. "Don't worry about it. They can't do anything to me that hasn't been done before. Perk of having an ass for a father." The humor drained from his expression and he rubbed a spot on his neck—_a phantom wound, perhaps?_

Despite his carefree tone, however, Christine couldn't seem to relax. All period long she waited, expecting the other shoe to drop. When it didn't, it only strung her tighter and she began to jump at every little sound. Twice, Erik passed her desk simply to stroke her arm in reassurance.

When the bell rang, she ran to him. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." A lopsided smile danced on his face under the usual hood. "Christine, I told you, they get bored easily. They aren't going to keep at me."

Christine only shook her head. "People like these don't give up that easily, Erik. I'm—"

"Freaking out for no reason," he finished, kissing her forehead carefully. "Relax. Go to class, I'll be fine."

With nothing left to do, Christine had no choice but to obey his logical command. She shot him one last look, then scurried down to English seconds before the bell rang.

When lunch came, she was in his room before Erik himself. Jittery, she paced the enclosed space several times until he emerged through the doorway.

Clearly surprised to see that she had beaten him there, he asked, "Christine? Was there a fire or something in Chem?"

She rushed to him, throwing his hood off so she could look him in his startlingly gray-blue eyes. "You're still all right?" she asked, shocked both by the realization and her own disturbing paranoia.

"No need to sound so disappointed," he replied, tugging tersely on the strings of his hoodie as if fighting the urge to recover his face.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, sinking down in a chair and pulling her lunch from her backpack. "I've just…been…look, I don't know why, but I feel like this can't be working."

His head snapped up and his eyes took her in warily. "This?"

"Well, I mean…everything's going so _well_," she elaborated lamely. "Call me pessimistic, but I just can't see it continuing on without some sort of…"

"Being accused of beating a boy into a coma is going well?" he asked with a tiny smirk. "You must live an exciting life if you're used to that sort of thing."

She sighed and stood up again, too wired to stay still. "You know what I mean. I haven't heard from Raoul in days, the kids are being nice to you…it just doesn't feel right. Things don't go this well in the real world, they usually come back to bite you in the ass. You know?"

He shook his head quietly. "Christine…"

"What?" She stopped pacing for a moment.

"They aren't being quiet because they're part of karma," he explained. "They stopped irritating me because they're _afraid_."

"Afraid of what?" she asked, confused.

"Afraid of _me_. Your buddy Raoul spread the story of my interrogation all around the school and now…now they all want nothing more than to stay out of my way." He shrugged. "It could be worse. At least now there's silence."

Her heart broke at the words and the misery hiding beneath them. "Erik…they're idiots. You know that."

"Knowing isn't the same as believing," he answered roughly, getting up and facing one of the walls. There was silence for a moment; then he said, "Do you know why I have these posters?"

He was referring to the carnival pictures that she'd wondered about earlier. As she watched, he gently ran his hand along the words on one, closing his eyes as if in infinite pain.

"My father…one of his friends had a fair a couple of years ago. Nothing too elaborate, just a quick money-maker scheme that they'd come up with at work. They had the usual things there: a lion on rent from the local zoo, some clowns who had nothing better to do with their summer. And then they had me. Freak Boy. Hell's Child." His lips curled in a hateful smile. "Do you like that name? Daddy Dearest came up with it. He always was one with a flair for the dramatics."

"Erik…" Christine reached out a hand to him. He shrugged her away.

"Don't bother feeling sorry for me, Christine. It was something to put on the ol' resume. 'Has worked in the circus, has cleaned cages, has prominent experience with the whip.' How many people can say that in this day and age, really?"

A tear slipped down her cheek. "God, Erik, why didn't you say something?"

"To whom?" he demanded, still facing away from her. "To the police? Oh, because they just _love_ me, Christine, couldn't you see it in their unbiased expressions?"

"What about Madame Giry?" she shot back. "Erik, she could've helped you, taken you in, _something_!"

"It's in the past," he replied coolly.

"It _isn't _in the past!" she cried. "Damn it, Erik, he's still hurting you! You flinch when anyone comes near you! It isn't over—will never be over—until you do something about it."  
"I'll be gone in June anyway," he answered. She could hear the tightness to his voice, the way he seemed to be holding back a flood of what was most likely anger. Rationality told her to stop pushing him.

"Gone where?" she pressed. "Where can you go where he won't find you?"

"He won't find me," he growled back, "because he doesn't care to look. If he cared, do you really think I'd be here every night I could, away from him? I'm just a _toy_ to him, a useless punching bag. I'm not his _son_, I'm something he just has to contend with until I'm out of school."

"Erik!" she cried. "Erik, he's left his mark. It isn't going to go away that easily, you _know _that!"

"What do you care!" he shouted. She saw his fists clench and took a step back.

"I care because I love you!" she yelled back.

"You _love _me?" he snarled. "You _love _me? Me, this hideous beast?"

"Yes!" she cried, exasperated. _Didn't we just go through this?_ "Yes, I love you, Erik! You are _not_ a beast or a monster or a freak or anything else! Not to me."

The last three words were spoken very quietly, but he heard them all the same. His head bowed as if he were ashamed of himself. Then he whirled unexpectedly around, catching her by the wrists and pinning her to the wall. His eyes were wide, but conveyed no violence; only sorrow.

"This is what they want me to be," he whispered, thrusting his body against hers in a way that would've been painful if it had been anyone else. She gasped, instinctively pushing her hips back into his to give herself space. Oblivious, he continued. "This is who they want me to be. My father, my teachers, the police. They believe I'm capable of hurting people just because of my face! I don't understand it, Christine…" He pulled back from her and she shivered, feeling oddly cold and alone.

"I didn't do it," he whispered yet again. She reached for him, drawing him back to her, warming his body with her own.

He scared her when he got like this. He'd frightened her so badly in the hospital and this time…this time even more so. But somewhere underneath the fear was calm, the knowledge that he'd never hurt her. He _couldn't _hurt her.

"It's okay," she murmured against his throat where she was pressing frantic kisses. "It's okay…You'll teach them, Erik, you'll make them see. We'll do it together."

A/N: Ug, okay, this chapter didn't come out nearly the way I wanted it to. –shakes head- I get the feeling I'm being really repetitive, which is kind of the point…but I hope I'm not annoying you guys with it.

Review Replies:

hikari-no-tsubasa- Well, the other shoe will be dropping. I just won't tell when. –winks-

Omega Devin- Warm fuzzies are always of the good.

Childofthewilderness- Violence solves nothing. …unless we're talking about fanfiction. –grins-

Prongsthedestroyer- Yeah, it is a lovely world, isn't it…-dreams of the Butler happily-

Maeve Of the Nile- Here's some more. –points at horrible chapter- Sorry it isn't all that great.

Opera Jessie- lol, hey, I don't mind long reviews.

Rilette- Don't die! And…hey, advertising. –is thrilled-

Crazy Lady Georgey- Candy? Sure, enjoy. –tosses some- I'm glad I keep winning you skeptical-types over. That's just spiffy.

Just-an-Echo- Ah, a PotO movie…wait, hasn't that been done? –laughs-

Maglenan Songbird- Interesting is the word. You know, I was thinking of using Donnie Darko but somehow…

AMLisdabomb- You are very persistent, did you know that? –laughs- Okay, I'll try to work in a make-out-in-the-rain session. Not sure when….but sometime. (P.S.-enjoy your nunnish thing. )

Melinda Daae- Yep, the Phantom is Erik. Isn't it a cool name?

PhantomInMyDreams- lol, so my parents aren't the only ones who force fanfiction-addicts off the computer…

midnightangel38- Ah, the song. Yeah, I've been thinking about that…good thing too, I tend to forget about important details…-sheepish- I'll try to remember this time.

Shortstef- Sure, have a cookie. I've got plenty. –beams- And I'm psyched that you like my story.

Alixy- Aw, I've been favorited! –hugs self-

Mill- That is…so massively creepy. Wow. Am I channeling you guys or what?

little wind- I've checked it out, it isn't plagarization (although I'm glad someone cares enough to mention it, I'm not the only person to ever write AU PotO…I think.) Thanks for the thought, though. –hugs-

krystal- I own her new book, actually. I'm only a bit into it, though, I had to put it on hold because I just rented Susan Kay's Phantom from the library.

draegon-fire- Hmm…not sure. –evil grin- We can dream, though…

ENTR'ACTE- Heh, I'll try not to overdose you on fluff.

Falling Phoenix- Sugar _and_ flowers. I'm such a lucky little author…

LadyWillow- Wow, hyper? Lol, here, enjoy.

Silent Tragedy- Heheh, okay, I'll buy that. –amused-

LiTTleLoTTe1991- Oookkkayy….lol.

MJ-Skywalker- Skeptism again. Well, at least you've given me a chance. –smiles-

Hoshi-… –says nothing, only grins very broadly-

Number47- lol, ah, he's still around, don't worry…

Aki T- Fluff is good, fluff is very good.

Okay, I know I missed a bunch of people and for that I apologize, but this it, like, 2 full pages of RRs…-sigh- I love you guys, never did I dream I'd surpass 100 reviews, let alone 300. Man…I think I have to sit down.


	27. The Sketchbook

Disclaimer: Me? Own this sparkliness? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

Christine left Erik's domain after lunch only to return once school was over. The young man had been rather embarrassed about his outburst, leading him to speak very little and sheepishly accept her conversation with as few words as possible. She had no intention of letting him spend an entire night beating himself up over something that she felt he deserved to say, so she slipped back down to him when the class was released from one too many Celine Dion cassettes.

She found him at his desk, bent over something. He held a pencil in his left hand and was moving it with surprising speed and agility over what she assumed was paper.

Coming closer, she saw that he was working in his sketchbook, eyes focused on his work. His tongue poked out of the corner of her lips as if he were a small child painting for his mother. Christine found the whole image both endearing and very sexy and did not hesitate in telling him so.

He jumped when she greeted him with, "Hey, Sexy. What's shaking?"

"Not much," he answered, closing the sketchbook and dropping the pencil. She took a seat on the arm of his chair, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady herself.

"I didn't know you were left-handed," she remarked after a painfully-silent moment.

"I'm not." He smiled tightly. "Ambidextrous, if you can believe it. Another sign of my fre—specialness."

She laughed, shaking her hair back from her face. "You never cease to amaze." Poking the cover of his sketchbook, she added, "And you can draw?"  
"Not very well," he admitted. "Just people and only sometimes. It's like…like I get possessed by the urge to sketch and once I'm finished, the flame just goes out. Sometimes it doesn't come back for months."

"Can I see?" she asked, interested.

Erik shrugged casually, but she saw the tiny amount of terror in his eyes when he handed the book to her. She recognized the expression as the desire to please coupled with the fear of failure—the same look she'd given her father many times when she'd tried to write her own songs.

Committed to keeping him comfortable, she leaned her head against his and opened the cover. Then she gasped.

"Erik! This is…amazing!"

He blushed and looked modestly away, mouth contorting as he tried not to smile. She gaped at the image of Madame Giry, dictating to her class. How lifelike it was! Every detail seemed inhumanly perfect.

"Does she know you draw like this?" she wanted to know. Erik shook his head.

"I don't share this with people," he explained, still determined not to show his true emotion.

She continued to flip through the pages. Less than a quarter of the book was full, but the images that he had were fantastic. Random students…Raoul and his mass of footballer friends…herself.

Her jaw dropped lower at the image he had so carefully constructed of her, bent over her Geometry book. "When…when did you draw this?" she asked when she found her voice.

He shrugged, blushing more mightily than ever. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…it just sort of happened in class one day—"

She laughed, silencing him with a finger against his lips. "Erik, it's beautiful. I didn't know you drew…I don't know very much about you, actually." She blinked as this realization hit her. "Odd."

He smiled. "You'll learn."

"I'd better." She leaned against him again, returning the sketchbook to the desk. "So do you want to do something new and exciting tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" he repeated blankly. _What's tomorrow…just another day, right?_

"Yeah. I was thinking we could venture out of this lovely little Batcave…up to the land of the living." She bit her lip, watching for a reaction.

As she'd expected, he flinched at the idea, closing his eyes momentarily and turning his head away from her. She caught his hand, rubbing the warm skin lightly with her thumb.

"It's just an idea," she added hastily. "I know you don't usually eat up there—"

"I've eaten up there once," he replied tautly. "And they threw things. But that's to be expected by now, isn't it?"

"Well, you said yourself that they're afraid of you…" Sensing the rage rising in him once again, she shook her head. "Never mind. Never mind, it's a bad idea."

He let out a shuddering breath. "No. It's a good idea…tomorrow?"

She nodded happily, kissing him in that wild, carefree way she had. He tried to smile, even though his stomach was in knots.

"I'll see you then," she told him, getting up and heading for the door. "Right now, I've got some math homework to do."

He laughed. "And you'd best get that done, too. Mr. Hall's due back tomorrow, first thing."

Shaking her head, Christine flew up the stairs and out of the choir hallway. _Is Meg still here?_ she wondered as she entered the near-empty halls. _I'm not sure I want to walk home alone…_

"Christine!" someone shouted from behind her. She whirled, already knowing that this was not Meg calling her—unless, of course, Meg had had an explicable sex change. Which she doubted.

Raoul, dressed for practice, smiled at her. Rolling her eyes, Christine started to walk quickly in the opposite direction, hefting her math book in her arms in case she needed to wack the football captain upside his jealous head with it.

"Christine, wait!" he called again. "Christine, I want to talk to you!"

"Of course you do," she muttered, speeding up further.

"Hey!" Catching up to her at last, he grabbed her arm. She yanked away.

"What do _you_ want?" she demanded coldly.

"Is that any way to talk to an old friend?" he asked, running his hands through his hair nervously.

"Raoul. You beat the crap out of my boyfriend for _no reason whatsoever_," she told him slowly, as if he were too stupid to recognize English. "This kind of takes something out of the friendship."

"Oh, boyfriend? That's what he is?"

"Yeah, Raoul." Rolling her eyes again, Christine tried to set off down the hall.

He followed her. "So…are you going to come to the game Friday night?"

"_Game_?" she repeated harshly. "Raoul, I don't plan on attending any function that involves you for a very long time. I have to go home now."

"No, Christine, wait!" He grabbed for her again. She scowled.

"Wait for what?" she demanded.

"Don't you want to hear my side of the story?" he asked with a little pout that was clearly meant to win her over.

It didn't work. "You thrashed Erik in a freaking alley, Raoul. There _is_ no other side to the story. Now, seriously, I have work to do. I'll talk to you…well, why don't you try me in a month or so?"

With that, she made her escape. _I can't believe him! _she thought furiously. _He was never this much of an ass before! What happened to him?_

Raoul watched her go with his mouth open. No girl had ever resisted his puppy-dog look before. What made this one, this Christine Daaè so different?

A/N: Shorty, per usual. I'm trying to figure out how to word these properly, to dig myself out of this stupid little rut I'm in. Sadly, that may mean a few more fluff chapters than I would like to have…

Review Replies:

Falling Phoenix- Ooh, are you spreading the word about this fic? I always appreciate new readers…-hopeful expression-

Sanny – You're a fanfic? Lol, sorry, couldn't resist. I haven't seen National Treasure yet. Plan to, though.

Prongsthedestroyer-blinks- Well…you'll just have to see, won't you? –grins-

AMLisdabomb- Mm, I don't think I'd make a very good nun. I wear too much flannel, you see…

Christie- Court scene…interesting idea….

La Foamy- Faith is good, I like faith.

lazy.kender- Ah, go ahead, take your time. I'm shocked that anyone can read this thing in one go…it's so long and crazy…-shakes head-

Maeve Of the Nile- But I have to be hard on myself! Who else will be? –laughs-

Dark-Autumn- Ooh! –accepts cookie happily- Updation!...is that a word?

Silent Tragedy- I think you can expect some more singing…

MadameAngel- Hate when computers crash, don't you? There was one time when my comp wouldn't allow at all…it was a horrible couple of months…

YoukoElfMaiden- Aww, don't you wish the film would've ended the E/C way?

Number47- Wow, yeah, a bit too much sugar…lol

LiTTleLoTTe1991- Sure I care. –grins- And of course you can have a cookie.

Southern-born-and-bred- Tanky.

erik'sangel527- Glad the repetitiveness isn't bugging you too much…it's bothering me. I'm going to try to…something. –shrugs- Whoo, did I mention I can't see right now?

Aki T- Fluff…ah, fluff…-sighs-

SmileVampy- The mad updates have been less mad than usual lately…sorry for that. I'm still trying for at least one a day.

phantomsangel102- I'll take a look at yours, sure.

Angel-of-Music1331- I'll try to get crazy again soon…probably when I go back to school and my plot-notebook.

Ceslestial Hunter-bows happily- Glad you like.

KatStarr- I'm hurryin'!

EmailyGirl- I don't mind my dialogue, it was just….slow-feeling. If you guys don't mind a hundred-thousand chapters, then this may work better…I'm slow, sorry. –apologetic-

Jedi Blu, Lady At Large- Thanks for the comment, I appreciate it.

-deep breath- Wow, almost 400 reviews. I think I'm having a stroke…


	28. Lunchtime Banter

Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

Erik's vision seemed to swim as he moved with a nearly inhuman grace through masses of students. This was total suicide, he knew, yet he couldn't seem to stop his progress down the halls.

Christine would be waiting for him in the cafeteria and he could only hope that he would be able to sate her desire for a normal lunch date. _Just this once, please let me be normal…God, just _once

The room was brightly lit and positively crawling with teenagers. Erik resisted the temptation to back up and run away. Someone bumped accidentally against him and he nearly cried out in surprise; the person shot him an odd look and went on his way.

"You're holding up traffic," an amused voice told him. Turning sharply on his heel, he met Meg Giry's sparkling eyes.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, ducking out of her way. She shook her head and grabbed him by the arm.

"Come on, Christine is in the lunch line," she said, hauling him into the ever-moving crowd. "We sit over here," she added unnecessarily.

He hovered next to the table she'd pointed him at, uncertain of what to do next. Meg looked up at him, rolling her eyes.

"Sit, boy," she commanded teasingly. "Come on, why so nervous?"

"The last time I ate with you in a public place, I got a black eye," he replied automatically. Then, realizing how rude he sounded, he clapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean—"

She laughed. "I know what you meant, and you're right. It's only understandable that you'd be jumpy. But come on, sit. You're only attracting more attention to yourself by standing there in the open."

"Touché." Smirking ever so slightly, he took a seat as far from her as possible. She sighed.

"I'm not going to pretend that this is fun for me, Erik," she began quietly. "I don't understand you. I don't know you and I tend to get just a little bit bitchy when it comes to people I don't know. Does that make sense to you?"

He nodded stonily and she continued.

"I am, however, going to do my best to _try_ to be nice, all right? Christine and my mother both see something special in you and they generally have decent judgment."

"Thank you?" Erik said uncertainly.

"Hey," Christine's light voice greeted them. Erik spun in his seat, relief surging through his body.

"Hi," he answered, trying to sound sane.

"You look pale," she observed, sitting next to him and reaching up to feel his forehead under the hood. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I've been…better," he mumbled. "Too many people out here…you know, I never thought of myself as claustrophobic before."

Meg snickered until Christine lashed out and kicked her under the table.

"Erik, you just haven't had time to adjust to the...crowds yet," she soothed. "Here, have some fries. Take a breath. Pretend they aren't here."

"Easy for you to say," he mumbled, selecting a french fry from the styrofoam tray she had set in front of herself. "You're used to this sort of thing."

"And so will you be, if you want to," she replied, squeezing his hand.

"Was that English?" Meg asked cheerfully, brushing her hair back so she could better attack her salad.

"It was Chrissy-lingo," Christine answered lightly. "Haven't you learned Chrissy-lingo yet?"

"Do they offer a course in that?" Meg wondered. "You know, to replace the French thing we've been so hopelessly suffering through for weeks."

"We could take it up with the school board."

Erik listened to this off-hand banter, both amused and amazed at how both girls bounced off each other without thinking. Not having any friends of his own before Christine, he'd never experienced the witty repartee that they seemed so into. It was interesting, to say the least.

"So are we doing a movie tomorrow night?" Christine asked, dipping a fry into ranch and stuffing it into her mouth.

"Tomorrow's Friday," Meg replied.

"Yes. Hence my movie option." The brunette's lips quirked upwards.

"Well…there's a game tomorrow night," Meg said, suddenly hesitant. Christine's warm expression froze instantly.

"The football game?"

Erik lifted his eyebrows, turning his eyes from the angered young woman. Meg shifted in her seat, discomforted.

"I sort of…toldRaoulthatI'dgo," she said in a rush. Erik tried not to smile at the adorably-disgruntled little sound Christine made. Reaching for her hand, he carefully drew his thumb across her warm skin.

Though slightly placated by his movements, Christine's face continued to betray her emotion. "You would rather go watch that…that…_Raoul_ prance around a field than go to the movies with your best friend?" she sputtered.

"Oh, please," Meg shot back. "You'd be inviting _him_ along anyway, so it isn't like I'm leaving you completely alone!"

Erik's tolerant smile faded. Christine's mouth tightened further.

"Getting dangerously close to that line, Meg," she warned. "Tread softly."

The blond closed her mouth on her next retort. When she opened it again, it was to apologize. "Sorry, Erik, I didn't mean to sound so…"

"Rude?" he suggested, trying to smile and shrug it off.

"I was going to make hearty use of another adjective, but okay." She smiled at him, then reached for Christine's other hand, stilling its progress toward a fry. "Look, I am sorry, Christine. But I promised him I'd go and I don't go back on my promises."

Christine bit her lip. "Meg…"

Erik, feeling a sudden burst of sympathy, squeezed Christine's hand. "Let her go, Mommy, please?"

Christine tore her eyes from the fry she'd been gawking at long enough to smirk. "Did you just call me Mommy?"

"Oh, like it's new," Meg mocked. Christine kicked her again, grinning.

"All right, fine," she said grudgingly. "Go ahead. Watch the…_god_ run around with his idiot football team. I'll just find something else to do with my semi-valuable time."

Meg smiled back, clearly relieved. "Thanks, Chrissy."

The brunette slumped in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine, whatever. I'll just sit at home…maybe I'll engage your mother in a rousing game of Monopoly."

"You most certainly will not," Erik told her indignantly.

"Why not? I'm sure Mrs. Giry could use a game night or two, she's been looking stressed lately…"

"But…you could be with me—"

"Making out?" Meg teased. "Groping shamelessly under the covers?"

This time it was Erik who kicked her, blushing mightily under his shadow.

"I was _going_ to say hanging out."

"Of course you were." Meg lifted her eyebrows wryly, reaching down to rub her ankle. "That kind of hurt, by the way."

"Well, you deserved it…," he muttered.

Christine's pout lessened ever so slightly at this, which depressed Erik a bit; he'd been looking forward to kissing the expression off her face. However, when she looked over at him with a sly little grin, he couldn't help but smile back.

"So…tomorrow evening," he said conversationally. "A movie? Some chess, perhaps?"

"Or we could skip straight to the snuggling," she replied with another flirtatious grin, lightly knocking her knee against his. Meg pulled a face.

"And I put up with the googly eyes…why?"

"You live through me, don't deny it," Christine teased. "Vicariously, I might add."

"You do vicarious things?" Meg laughed. "Why, Christine, I never knew…"

"Hey, Meg," a new voice said coolly. All three teens turned to see Raoul and two of his football buddies standing over them. Erik instinctively tightened up, his fingers crushing around Christine's. She winced.

"Erik…" _Does this boy never quit? I told him no, for God's sake!_

"Howdy, Shadow-man," one of the nameless greeted him. The other elbowed Raoul.

"Would you look at that? The Dark One's breaking your girl's hand, R. Are you gonna stand for that?"

Something crossed Meg's face even as Raoul answered calmly, "She's not my girl, man. It isn't my business. That said…are you guys going to swing by tomorrow night?"

"I think I already answered that one," Christine replied frostily. His face fell slightly, some of his haughty bravado dripping away.

"But…"

"_No_, Raoul," she repeated. "Did it get through to you yet? How about if I say it in another language? _Non_. How's that?"

"Christine," Erik murmured. "Let's just go."

"Yeah, I agree," she snapped. "We should get out of here."

He smiled gently. "No, that's not what I meant. Let's go to the game."

For a moment, there was silence—or as much silence as a party can achieve in a high school cafeteria. An utterly disbelieving look spread across Christine's face.

"Are you serious?" she stammered. "You…would willingly go…to a football game?"

He shrugged, trying not to look as though he was signing his own death certificate. "Sure. Somebody has to keep Meg from giving in to lust and lunging out onto the field, right?"

The blond looked up in surprise, then laughed outright. "Damn, Chrissy, I'm beginning to like this guy."

Christine sighed, smiling ever so slightly.  
"I think I've successfully socialized him," she muttered regretfully.

A/N: Yes! I live! I have not been completely overtaken by this horrific writer's block! –sob- It is a miracle! …all kidding aside here, though folks, I'm sorry for both the delay and the slight choppiness to this chapter. You have no idea how long it took me…-shudders- The horror! The horror! –ahem- Anyway.

Review Replies:

Amanda: Glad you're enjoying it.

Mjwannabe- Woah, a seizure? Can't have that, can we? Oh, and thanks for the advice, it's really interesting. I've never heard that before.

hobbit-love- I'm sorry about the rut too. –tries fruitlessly to climb out of hole-

anonomous18- Ack, threats!

LittleLottie05- You know, they're working on a patch for this story. You may want to look into investing. Until then…have another dosage! –grins-

Dark-Autumn- And now I feel a bit bad for all I'm doing to Raoul…-sigh- Oh well. Price for fopiness, I guess.

Neon-signs-at-2AM- Woah, hey, what have I said about dying?

Lady Pheonix1- I'm glad she didn't seem snobby. That would have been bad.

Awoman- Aww, I'm so sorry. –hugs- Want some chocolate?

little wind- Darn those guys and their inability to understand rejection! –pause- Wait, do I have any guy reviewers that I'm inadvertently dissing?

babymene17- Don't we all? –sigh-

IceRi- Ah, thanks. I'll try to keep that in mind.

That's all for now, guys, I'm sorry for all those that I missed. I'm just really sleepy and I'd like to get this posted tonight. –smiles- Good night, all, I'll be back again soon.


	29. Football Games

Disclaimer: Me? Own this splendiferousness? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

_Too…much…noise…_

Christine could practically _see_ the thought racing through Erik's brain. The young man was jittery, bobbing through the crowds and behaving as though he expected a spear to lance through his spine at any given moment.

The sun had gone down only an hour or so before, but the air was chilly. The brunette was lugging her boyfriend along by the hand, trying not to trip over the uneven gravel that made up the high school parking lot.

"They couldn't have let us through the gate…," she muttered. "Oh _no_, that would've been horrible…Let's go the long way, why don't we? ...oh, for God's sake, Erik, stop fidgeting!"

"You seem to tell me that a lot," he answered sullenly, clearly regretting the decision he'd made to pretend to be a normal teenager.

"That's because you always seem to be fidgeting!" Her expression cleared and she gave a little laugh that masked her annoyance. "Look, we don't have to be here. Really. I mean, I don't even understand most of the rules of football…"

"What's not to understand?" he asked absently, focused on the mob of people crushing in on them. "Bunch of big guys, one ball, lots of running and tackling and screaming. Occasionally cups of varying beverages are thrown. It's all pretty simple, really."

"Uh huh. And how do they score?"

He paused. "From the…free throw line?"

Christine took a moment to cackle rather hysterically. Erik looked a little bit hurt.

"I don't do sports, okay?" he mumbled. "No teams ever wanted me and anyway, my father would've taken it as just another opportunity to break bones…"

She kissed him, then resumed pulling him through the crowd. "Sweetie, I know. But remember what I said about being here."

"We don't have to," he repeated cheerlessly. "I know. But we already told Meg and the others—"

"Oh, who cares?" she interrupted. "Erik, there are a dozen better places we could be right now."

He hesitated, then pointed. "Look! Free space!"

They dodged forward around an elderly couple and slipped through into the open night. Still grasping Erik's hand, Christine hauled him to the bleachers and into a seat about midway up.

"There," she panted. "Still in one piece?"

"I think I left my right arm back there," he muttered, seeming troubled. "Would you like to go get it?"

"You can manage without it, Ambidextrous Boy," she answered, patting his knee and snuggling close to him to block out the eight o' clock wind. He made a small sound that may have been contentment and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

The teams trooped onto the field at the screeching of a whistle and the game began. Christine was instantly lost. She scanned the groups of large, pad-laden young men, recognizing Raoul pretty quickly as the guy who always seemed to have the ball. Around her, people screamed and cheered and groaned. Erik gave a particularly violent twitch as the woman behind them stood up and accidentally dumped half a quart of buttery popcorn on their heads.

"That was rude," he remarked mildly, clearly at the end of his patience and trying to stay calm at the same time. "We should—"

"Not react," Christine finished for him, reaching up to brush kernels of crunchy goodness from atop his hood. "Erik, it's a sports function. What exactly did you expect?"

He gave a half-hearted shrug and didn't answer. She smiled and shook her head.

"You really are different, aren't you?"  
Another little shrug. Under his shadow, he smiled.

The game continued to progress, getting less and less comprehendible. Christine half-wanted to just get up and leave, but Erik seemed to be warming to his environment ever so slightly—well, his shoulders had loosened up, anyway—so she decided to stick it out. It was only a bit chilly, after all, and her company definitely could've been worse…

A whistle signaled half-time and Christine got up, stretching her legs. "I'm going to go to the bathroom and get a soda or something," she told Erik, who smirked.

"Won't those two actions cancel each other out?"

She lightly tapped him on the head and smiled before making her way gingerly down the rickety bleachers. Wrapping her arms around herself, she found her way down to the ground and plunged into the crowd.

It was almost as bad as trying to move through a high school hallway, she thought numbly. Unbelievable! She could see couples making out in the shadows—was that Carlotta with the transfer student? Christine shook her head, not really caring whose tongue was in her irritating classmate's mouth; at least the act of kissing shut the diva up.

She was working her way back from the bathroom when she heard them. Two boys were conversing quietly with one another, talking about whatever teenage boys talk about. Christine was perfectly happy to ignore them—until she heard them mention the "Shadow Man".

"It's all being blamed on him," the boy said, sounding a bit satisfied.

"Well, it's only logical," the other drawled. "He's a total spaz. He's definitely the type to bash someone's skull in."

Christine's blood rose and she started to comment on behalf of her boyfriend. Midway through the breath she was taking in, however, she zeroed in on the first boy.

_Raoul? What is he doing over here?_

"It's a good thing Buquet got the shit kicked out of him anyway," Raoul told his friend, shifting his helmet under his arm. "Coach was talking about bringing him in to replace me, you know."  
"Yeah, man, that would've sucked." His friend was nodding and grinning. "He was too stupid anyway, probably would've screwed us. Scored for the other team or something…"

Both boys laughed and moved away. Christine blinked, trying to puzzle out what she had just heard. Had Raoul actually said that he was _glad_ his teammate was in a coma?

_Could he have had something to do with it?_

She went back to the bleachers, rubbing her head with her fingertips. Perhaps it was time to go home after all; she was getting a massive headache and her stomach was starting to flip and—"Erik!" she shouted, starting to move faster.

The boy was gripping his face and bending over as if to hide from something and it was no wonder; the people around him were hurling things and insults as if their very lives depended on it.

"Damn you, get out of here!" one man screamed.

"You think we don't know you beat Joey Buquet?" another cried. "We don't want you here, freak! Showing off that ugly face! You're scaring the children!"

Christine's heart leapt into her throat as a trio of teenage boys lunged for Erik and shoved him, sending the boy off balance. He fell down several steps, cracking his head as he went with a sickeningly-loud thud and landing on the ground in a heap.

She ran to him, grabbing him and dragging him up.

"Erik, can you walk?" she demanded.

He nodded weakly, looking dizzy. One hand was groping backward for something; Christine recognized the movement and pulled his hood over his eyes before lurching through the crowd.

"What happened?" she cried when they were finally safe in the empty shadows outside the front of the school.

Erik sank down on the grass, rubbing the back of his skull tentatively. "I…I don't know. A little girl. She was playing near me and I guess she thought it would be funny to tug my hood off…and then everyone recognized me and started to scream about that Buquet kid. Next thing I knew, I was falling." He sounded more shaken then she'd ever heard him. "I've…I haven't dealt with a mob like that before. Not with adults and little kids and everything…This was a mistake."

As she took him into her arms, Christine had to admit that he was right. They should never have come here. But something else was nagging her.

"Did you ever see Meg?" she asked as she tried to calm his shivering body.

Erik shook his head. "No…she was supposed to be here. Maybe she was in the other bleachers or something. There were a lot of people there."

"Yeah, I guess…" Christine's frown deepened as she pulled back. "Erik, you're coming home with me tonight."

He shook his head again. "No, I couldn't impose—"

"Erik, it isn't imposing if I invite you," she cut him off impatiently. "I'm not letting you go home tonight, not to that ass. You've been through enough tonight. We've got a guest bedroom and I'm sure Mrs. Giry won't mind."

He said nothing and she knew she had broken him. Rummaging in her purse for the emergency cell phone, she told him, "I'm going to call her. Stay here, all right? No running off."

With that, she walked a little further and dialed her home number. Mrs. Giry answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Giry, I need a ride home," Christine said quickly. "And I need to keep Erik at our house for at least a night."

The woman sounded puzzled when she said, "Why? What's the matter?"

"It's complicated," Christine answered shortly. "But he can't go home tonight, not in his state."

"All right. I'll be there in a few minutes. Is Meg coming with you?"

"Oh, she is here?" Christine shrugged into the phone. "I haven't seen her."

"She said some boy named Raoul was letting her sit on the bench next to his spot." Mrs. Giry sounded relatively amused. "That wouldn't be the captain that everyone loves, would it?"

"How many Raouls do you know?" Christine replied dryly, smiling when the older woman laughed.

"Good point. All right, sit tight, dear. I'll be there as soon as I find my coat and shoes."

A/N: God, it took forever! I'm so sorry, guys! –shakes head at self- This was just horrible, making you wait like I did. I'll try to be faster with the next one.

Review Replies:

Prongsthedestroyer- Heh, that was random. But I probably wouldn't have been able to resist either.

Wolf of the Mist- Writer's block has been put on hold, thank God. –feels happy-

SmileVampy- Well, it's sort of mischief…

JeanMarie- No, no comas! Read, quickly, and heal thyself! –blinks- Did I just say 'thyself'?

Shorty- Wow, that makes for a lot of updateless hours. I'm sorry about that.

Tactics- First AU EVER? How can that be when there are so many great ones out there? Hey, if anyone likes Inuyasha (random, I know), go read Meeting Place by Tsuki-no-oni. It's kickass.

draegon-fire- Yeah, you had the right idea. No good can come of unexpected preppiness. –laughs-

SlytherinsDarkAngel07- Aww, she hasn't poisoned his mind…just warped it a bit. –grins-

Maeve Of the Nile- Did I read it? I think I did…if I didn't, I will. –nods decisively-

Crazy Lady Georgey- Uh…-calls- Hey! Guys! No beating up my reviewers!

Falling Phoenix- Ooh, candy! –pounces-

LadyWillow- …-blinks up at chapter, then hands over a box of tissues-

Neon signs at 2AM- How much is a zillion? –laughs- I'm kidding. …no, really.

Alixy- Wow, down girl. –pats your shoulder-

Mademoiselle P- I was thinking about that, actually. I'm not sure how it will end…and even if I was, I wouldn't be telling!

PhantomInMyDreams- Love you too for the lovely reviews. Enjoy the angst. –smiles-

AMLisdabomb- lol, no rain as of now. Sorry. And sorry for the delay—I hope you didn't die from the wait. As for Joe, he's sleeping. Still. But that black eye may be clearing up.

Eviv- I torture you because I'm a horrible person. May I be flogged with a thousand fiery whips. –hangs head-

Awoman- Wow, fasting? You're one strong person…

Mill- Erik's the only reason I've been able to write this one. Thanks for letting me borrow him. –wink-

MadameAngel- Heh, no it doesn't sound too perverted…well, maybe just a little bit. But we all love E/C smoochies, don't we?

Aki T- Don't worry, Creepy-Social-Erik is a rarity.

Ok, sorry for all the missed replies and for the super-long wait. I've been stressed out and doing math HW like crazy…not to mention my Creative Writing class which has been taking up so much of my time. –sigh- For having no life, I'm busy. I also bought Susan Kay's Phantom, yes I did—two bucks at the local used book shop! I'm nearly done with it, only about a hundred fifty pages left, so I may randomly throw in elements from it because I love it and I think this is a run-on sentence, isn't that swell?


	30. Heat and Decisions

Disclaimer: Me? Own this swelliferousness? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

Slight Warning: I've been in a bit of an overly shippy mood lately. So there's a _lot_ of E/C-ishness in here. Just so you know.

_Erik falls onto the couch with a tiny cry of pain. Christine sits beside him, lightly rubbing his back._

_"Do you want to go into a bedroom?" she asks quietly, perfectly aware that Mrs. Giry is hovering just behind her. _

_He shakes his head, burrowing as deeply into the cushions as he can. It smells like Christine here, like comfort…like home. It's warm and safe and feels like the only place where he can never be hurt. He knows he can't stay here forever, but he wishes to God that he could._

_She understands. "All right. I'll get you some blankets."_

_He clenches his eyes more tightly closed, fighting the desire to cry. He doesn't want to be a sissy any more than he wants to impose upon the Girys. This isn't the time for emotion, he tries to tell himself even as a singular tear trails down his cheek. _

_She returns, arms full of warm fuzzy things. Gently, like the mother he never really had, she drapes three blankets over his shivering, huddled form, then sits again on the edge. _

_"Is there anything else I can give you?"_

Just stay with me_, he hears himself whisper. _Just for a little while.

_"Until you fall asleep," she agrees. She caresses his face under the hood, running her delicate fingers against his skin. He closes his eyes again, feeling quite suddenly sleepy and drunk on her presence. The last thing he hears is her gentle voice, whispering sweet little things that he can't quite understand. He vows with his last thought that this is the end of the old Erik: He will not show this weakness anymore. He will not make Christine nurse him any longer._

_Her voice washes over him, strengthening his resolve._

This is it…

Christine rolled out of bed, her mind begging for coffee. Meg's form was only slightly visible beneath her own covers, so Christine hauled herself out of the room without bothering to even poke her friend. All she wanted was caffeine and a hot shower and—_Mamma mia…_

Erik was standing in the kitchen, his shirt off, eating a bagel. He looked nothing like the whimpering ball of agony that he'd been the previous evening. In fact, the only testaments to Friday's events were the bruises covering his torso and the dried blood in his dark hair.

Christine's knees seemed to disappear entirely. One hand shot out to clutch the countertop as she took in a breath. _Since when has he been so _built

He looked up to see her practically drooling and smiled, instinctively covering his face with one hand. "Good morning."

"M-morning," she gasped out, staggering toward him. "You…found the bagels."

He caught her as she tripped over a stray shoe—_Damn that shoe, I'm not normally this clumsy_—and laughed. "That I did."

"Did…you leave me one?" _Ooh, smooth. Really brilliant, Chrissy, really—_

Another husky laugh. "Yeah, there's a couple left. Do you want me to toast one for you?"

_Oh, you're toasting something…_ "Yes, please. Except…"

He blinked. "Except what?"

"Well, if you let go of me, I'll probably fall over." She blushed, looking him over.

This time, his laugh was near-hysterical. "Are you…you aren't kidding?"

She giggled at his uncertain little boy expression and leaned against his chest, craning her neck to look up at him. Both his hands were grasping her arms, so his face was quite unobstructed—and she found that she liked it that way.

"Just give me a minute to…lean against something…I'm not used to seeing you like this, you know, you really can't blame a girl."

He seemed even more uncertain now. She grinned more broadly, reaching up to tangle her hand in his disheveled hair and stopping when he winced.

"Are you all right?"

Something strange crossed his face. "Yes, fine. I just hit my head last night is all. No problem."

"No problem? Erik, you've got a gash back here—"

"It's okay. I didn't die in my sleep, did I?" He smiled, trying to wash her fears away.

"That isn't funny," she told him, slipping her fingers into his hair again and feeling around for the wound. "It's dangerous, Erik—"

He cupped her face with both hands, bringing his mouth down against hers and silencing her. She melted into him against her will, wrapping her arms around his neck in an effort to remain on her feet. He pressed her back against the counter, running his hands skillfully down the sides of her throat as she pushed her tongue against his lips.

The act of passion probably would have continued to a point that would have been mildly embarrassing for the Girys to walk in on if Meg hadn't done just that. Her mouth fell open and she turned quickly away, crying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" in a voice that was—in Christine's eyes—loud enough to wake the dead.

Erik pulled his lips away from hers regretfully, smiling as she groaned and turned to glare at her friend.

"I hate you, did you know that?"

Meg laughed. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you guys were getting hot and heavy in here."

"It's all right," Erik told her, gently lowering Christine to the ground. "I have to go do something anyway."

This was news to Christine. "You do?"

"Yep." He met her eyes straight on, which surprised her a bit. _When did he get forceful?_

He kissed her briefly, then said, "I'll be in the garage if anyone needs me."

"What's in the garage?" Christine asked when he'd gone. Meg shrugged, rummaging in the refrigerator for milk.

"My dad's stuff. Weights and crap. So…" She plunked herself down on a chair and grinned leeringly at her friend. "What exactly did I walk in on?"

"Nothing," Christine answered broodingly.

"Really? Nothing? Then why was his shirt off?"

Christine tried to busy herself with a bagel in order to prevent herself from slipping back into "Oh, God, he's so amazing" land.

"I don't know. Maybe he was hot."

"Oh, he was most definitely hot, my dear," Meg chuckled. "Apart from the face thing, I mean. Your honey is…well, I'm sorry, Chrissy, but the boy is _fine_."

Christine promptly dropped the knife she was holding. Swinging around, she glared freely at Meg. The slight blond girl raised her hands innocently.

"Hey, I've known him for years. He doesn't unnerve me the way he does most people."

This didn't add up in Christine's mind. "I thought you didn't like him."

"Oh, I don't," Meg assured her bluntly. "He's a scary guy with a wicked temper. Doesn't change his god-like physique." She grinned, looking rather satisfied.

Angrily, Christine clenched a fist against her side. She'd always known her friend to be considerably more judgmental than she would have liked, but this…this made her sick.

"What temper?" she demanded. "I've never—"

"Oh, please." Meg rolled her eyes. "You know what he did to Joseph Buquet. You can't him from himself, Christine, not even with your hero complex. When did you develop that anyway?"

Christine was in no mood to lapse into a good-natured bantering match. "So you believe Raoul's crack story about him?" she cried furiously.

Meg blinked, looking quite puzzled. "It isn't a crack story, Christine. It's true."

"No, it isn't!" Christine shouted.

Meg stood up, knocking her chair against the wall. "If Erik didn't do it, who did? I suppose Joe just beat the crap out of _himself_, did he?"

"Oh, are you _blind_?" Christine cried, coming to stand less than a foot from the other girl. "Erik didn't do it!"

"Then who did?" Meg challenged.

"Raoul!" Christine answered, giving voice to the suspicion that had been festering in her mind all night.

She wasn't sure how she expected Meg to respond. Not snap and shove her, that was for certain.

Caught entirely off-guard, Christine stumbled. Meg advanced on her, striking her violently across the face.

"How dare you?" she spat. "How _dare_ you accuse Raoul? He couldn't—wouldn't—how _dare_ you?"

She made to hit Christine again, but the brunette flung up a hand, catching the girl's thin wrist.

"Don't touch me," she warned in a dangerously low voice. "You have no right. I'm going to get up and go outside. You will stay here and cool down. Got it?"

Wrenching away, Meg hissed, "Don't tell me what to do." Turning on her heel, she stalked away to the living room.

Christine exhaled shakily. What was wrong with her? She wasn't a temperamental person and she'd never fought with Meg before; certainly not with violence. What was so different about this morning?

_Erik._

She'd fight for him, she realized as if a shock had coursed through her body. She's _die_ for him, if that was what it took to protect him from the darkness of humanity.

Getting up, she opened the back door and went out, blinking in the almost-unholy brightness. Moving quietly, she snuck across the lush green lawn to the mouth of the garage.

Erik was benching weights of varying sizes, apparently unaware of her presence. She stared as he grunted and lifted the bar up, brought it down, and let out a shaky breath as he lifted it again. His biceps—both of a considerable size, she realized now—bulged with the effort; she wiped self-consciously at her mouth.

_God…how long has he been working out like this?_

"Hey." He was sitting up, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel and letting the fluffy cloth linger over the ruined half of his face. She came to him and took the towel away.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" Confused, he gazed up at her. She rested a hand lightly against his cheek.

"Hide from me."

The reprimand was as gentle as her touch and she saw his gray eyes flutter closed. A sly smile crossed her features; the effect she had on him was almost as drugging as…well, everything about him.

"What are you doing out there?" she forced herself to ask before her strength disappeared completely.

"Working out." He shrugged, reopening his eyes. "I've been doing it for years, down at the school…sometimes here at night, when I know they won't see me. Mrs. Giry doesn't mind."

"Why?"

"I don't know…habit, I guess. I'm strange enough without being fat and lazy." His eyes twinkled teasingly.

She laughed. "There doesn't appear to be any danger of that. But if you've been doing this for years…why haven't you…"

"Fought back?" His smiled faded. "Because there's a difference between having the strength to lift weight and the strength to fight battles. I've got the first. I'm working on the second."

She nodded, trying to understand what his semi-cryptic babbling meant. Her hand was still caressing the side of his face and, quite suddenly, he seemed to lose control.

He grabbed her waist, pulling her roughly down onto his lap, and crushed her mouth with his own. She gave a little cry of surprise and pleasure, digging both hands into his hair and scratching his scalp with her nails.

His hands supported her back even as she leaned into him, reveling in his warm chest against her shirt-covered one. And when one hand began to trace its way gently up the back of that shirt…

She shivered. He brushed his mouth down her throat, allowing her to tilt her head back and moan. This was getting to be too much, she thought, too much, too soon…

She gasped as probing hands searched her body and slowly, instinctively rocked her hips against his. His eyes flew open in a sense of shock.

"Christine…"

"Make a choice, Erik," she gasped. "I won't…be able…to stop. Make a decision."

He hesitated and she groaned even as she felt his body respond. "Erik! Please!"

He shook his head, gently removing her from his lap and standing up, running his hands rigorously through his hair. "I can't," he told her softly. "I can't burden you with that."

She was still trying to breathe, trying to regain control over all that his touch had undone. "What?" was all she could manage, disappointed. "Don't you want…?"  
"Of course!" he cried, pounding the wall with one agitated fist. "Of course I want it…you. But I can't. Not with all that's been going on…you're in enough danger being wit me to begin with."

She gaped at him. "Are you kidding?" she demanded. "You still…you still think I'm in _danger_?"

"You saw what happened last night!" he exploded. "You saw their reaction to me being at the game! If there's how they do things when it's something as innocent as a football game, what would they do if we…if I…I mean, what if something happened? What if you got pregnant, for God's sake? I wouldn't be able to let anything happen to you…I'd die first, Christine, do you understand that? I'd _die_. I'll never let them touch you, Christine. And if that means denying myself some happiness, for the sake of your safety…well, then it's no question."

He fell silent, facing the wall. His shoulders heaved from the effort of containing himself, of pushing back raw emotion. It was really sweet, in a painful way, she thought.

_Very painful._

_But we're both willing to die for each other. Why does that give me a feeling of sick security?_

Coming up behind him, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned against his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered. "Most guys wouldn't give a damn about any of that…"

He looked uncertainly at her. "So…you aren't mad?"

"If you can wait, I can wait," she answered with a challenging grin.

Slowly, he grinned back.

A/N: Whoo, that one came out pretty quickly with few roadblocks. Makes me happy; I appear to be working past that nightmarish writer's block.

So, I'm done with Phantom. And: **SPOILER WARNING: **

I'm so glad the kid was Erik's. I don't think everyone got that, since the wording was strange, but I was so psyched…Raoul even accepted that she never loved him like she loved Erik. It just fills me with such a sense of triumph for this humble little ship…

Anywhoo. Review Replies:

WaY aWaY- It's just such a spiffy film…I wish it hadn't been ignored at the Oscars…

Mill- For camp? Well, all right. Since it's for such a worthy cause. –grins-

Maeve Of the Nile- Yeah, but we _always_ want to give Erik bear hugs. –laughs-

Maglenan Songbird- Stoof? –blinks-

erik'sangel527- Heh, I just realized that all of my characters are falling totally into OOC range…that's kinda depressing…

Mademoiselle P- Thank God for random little bookshops. It was really cheap, made me very happy.

Nade-Naberrie- No, we don't want you to die! Here, have hot-n-heavy E/C-ness!

Neon signs at 2AM- That's a lot of…illions.

Crazy Lady Georgey- Baseball…bats? –blinks and inches backward- Those aren't for usage against me, are they?

Angel-of-Music1331- It's all right that you told me the end, it didn't ruin it for me. God, it's an amazing book…my favorite…-goes through withdrawals and dives for _Phantom_-

SimplyElymas- Be…cause he doesn't exist? –wince-

Alyssa Halliwell- Charmed fan, are you?

JeanMarie- ….-locks lips-

SmileVampy- Yes, conclusions are very bad things to jump to…

Tactics- Your assumptions are intriguing, but you'll have to wait to see if you're right.

hikari-no-tsubasa- I had a storyline originally to veer from? –looks over old chapters-

Shorty- Doesn't make me feel bad. All the lines and equations make me feel bad. –smirks-

Silent Tragedy- Hope this sort of fulfills your E/C fix.

LadyWillow- lol, aww, your poor dad…

AMLisdabomb- How's this one? No rain, but some make-out sessions…

Alixy- I know, I'm sorry. –hangs head-

La Foamy- Erm…are you promoting violence toward the Fop?

Aki T- Urg. –tries to sit up- Yeah, an…update. Whoo, stars.

MadameAngel- Sorry, I'm kind of lending him out to Mill for a camp thing. Next time, you can have him.

So, that's another full page and a half of review replies. Have I mentioned recently how much I love you guys?


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